Corrupt Circle
by Lusky
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is whisked out of his dreary life in London to attend the Academy at Pangaea, a United Nations programmed school for the exceptionally gifted. Within this new, surreal atmosphere, he discovers much more about the Academy - and those confined to it - than he ever thought he would. Gakuen AU, EnglandxBelgium.
1. I

**Version 1.2, updated 22.06.12: **Complete story reformat, several punctuation and grammatical mistakes fixed, interrobang now included.

A/N: I am usually so-so with the concept of high school AUs. They usually do not appeal to me. However, as Gakuen Hetalia is considered part of canon to an extent, as is Hetalia Fantasia and Cardverse, I warmed to the idea as it was in my head. The storyline seemed to work better in a Gakuen setting than in the canon setting.

Anyway, I haven't written a piece of fanfiction for quite a while, so anything constructive in the criticism department is much appreciated. As of now, I have an idea of where the story is going to go, but in certain aspects I'm not sure whether to follow my head or my heart. One of these aspects is pairings. I can inform you that the primary pairing will _eventually _be **EnglandxBelgium**, as stated in the outer summary. To a minor extent, pre-established **Denmark/Norway **is also included. There will also be references of OCxOC pairings; as the story stands so far, **SerbiaxFYRMacedonia **(pre-established and depicted as het), and **CzechiaxSlovakia **(also pre-established and het). In spite of this, I must stress, _romance is not the driving force of this story. _Yes, it's going to be included, but it will never subtract from the main theme.

Which leads me to say that there will be usage of headcanons and, obviously, OC countries in this fic. They will not be used in complete excess, but I suggest that if neither of them are to your tastes, you don't read on. There will also be references to OC versions of canon nations; not to replace the canons, however, but to complement them. You will see what I mean, as the story progresses.

Um, alright, disclaimer time. I don't own Hetalia, Gakuen Hetalia, or any of the canon characters. This story is entirely for entertainment purposes and not for profit... What do you think this is, Fifty Shades of Grey?

Now, without further ado, please enjoy!

* * *

Corrupt Circle

_'Nor shall derision prove powerful against those who listen to humanity or those who follow in the footsteps of divinity, for they shall live forever. Forever.' -Khalil Gibran.  
__**I.**_

If anyone had asked Arthur Kirkland one month prior to his transfer that he'd be leaving his job behind to head to a boarding school, attended by only a select few and situated on a secluded island in... _God-only-knows where_ (it was top secret, or so he had been told), he'd have told them, word for word, that they were 'absolutely bloody mental'.

He had never once in his life considered himself boarding school material. That wasn't to say he wasn't intelligent, no, far from it; he felt he was _exceedingly_ intelligent. However, his life so far hadn't been favourable, by any standard. There were dozens of reasons why this was, and were one to enquire, he'd explain honestly; though, he would be disgruntled by the subject. The main reasons that he never thought he'd ever find himself in a boarding school were quite simple enough. For one, he had been brought up by a struggling single mother. Arthur could detail why she struggled, asides from the fact that she was alone, however, again he thought of it as a personal matter, and would not be too happy if questioned about it too much. In a nutshell, the household funds were low, and – as Arthur would tell anyone whom enquired – in the end, his mother could barely afford to take care of herself, let alone a child. From when he was eleven to the age of sixteen, he had lived in a children's home. These factors taken into account, it seemed more likely to him that Hell would freeze over before he'd go to a boarding school. In fact, it was so ludicrous to him, that he'd never even taken it into consideration before.

And yet, there he was... Almost. He was still on the car journey from the island's docks to the school itself, pinching at his wrist every so often to make sure this wasn't some incredibly detailed, incredibly _ridiculous _dream. Perhaps if he pinched hard enough, he'd wind up back in his cramped little flat in London... Most likely with a terrible hangover, too.

This had all begun one week ago. Just less than, actually, were he to make an estimate. Despite the job he had scrubbing sticky pub floors every night after closing time, ready for them to be covered in beer and blood and... Other liquids the next evening, for him to clean up once again, and so on and so forth, Arthur considered himself a musician, above all things. By day, he would play his guitar in the underground stations of London, for whatever extra money it would make him. So, when he had been approached after finishing one day by a man in a black suit, he thought at first that he'd been caught playing down there illegally. When – to his relief – he discovered the man wasn't from the authorities at all, he suspected he was a talent scout of some description. And in a way, that was true.

"I'm not here to sign you up to a record label." The man had explained to him. "I'm here to offer you a different kind of opportunity."

He spoke with the man for at least an hour, perhaps two, back in his flat, upon the man's request. Once the initial wall of suspicion that Arthur had put up died down, he had switched to being a little flustered at inviting him into a cheap, rented place that looked like a bomb had hit it, but it didn't seem to be much of a bother to the man. He had explained to Arthur that 'the Academy at Pangaea', as he had called it, was part of a program designed to cultivate genius minds. A secretive United Nations project; there was one person from every country attending, as a representative of sorts. The delegates were carefully selected, and each and every one of them excelled in intelligence, and were possibly gifted at a skill. These skills were to be honed at the Academy until they were nothing short of _perfect_.

And when they meant _perfect_, they meant _near superhuman._

It just so happened that, out of all the possible choices from England – of all the Oxford or Cambridge graduates that were most likely on the list, of all the overly intelligent and overly wealthy young men and women that could have been selected – that Arthur Kirkland, a seventeen-year-old (1) street musician, was chosen to fill his country's spot at the Academy.

"This all sounds terribly farfetched." Arthur had told the man half way through the conversation, peering at him over his cup of tea with a heavy eyebrow cocked. "Who do you think I am, Harry Potter?"

Arthur kept that mentality for the rest of the week. Even as he packed his belongings, even as he set out for the flight to New York, and the connecting flight to an unspecified location. Even as he got on the boat from there, all the while being escorted by not just one, but _several _men in black suits. Part of him began to wonder if he was in trouble with the FBI and not actually going to a secret high-level boarding school in the middle of the ocean. It wasn't until he actually caught sight of the massive white-brick walls that surrounded the school, marking its location, that it really sunk in.

He was, by nature, initially distrustful of people. He didn't know, himself, why he had accepted the offer. Surely he could have turned it down, surely they could have chosen someone else to take the place. But somehow, it seemed like this opportunity sounded, in a way, a damn sight better than the repetitive and – were he entirely honest with himself – lonesome life he led in London.

At first, he thought the walls looked more like they bordered a prison, and something inside him decided panicking was a good idea, although, he swallowed down any comment; stuffed into a car between two rather bulky looking men wearing sunglasses (_'of course'_, he had spat mentally, _'of course there would be bloody stereotypical security guards here'_), he decided saying anything particularly off-hand about the 'school' was a bad idea. The car had stopped for authorisation at the gates, but once they had driven on inside, his fears seemed to disappear.

There were several buildings, four he could see from the car; all a beautiful flawless white brick, each vast in size and grand-looking. He had to try very hard not to stare gaping out of the window (again, however, his position squashed like a sardine in the car made it difficult to do so anyway). If that was not the boarding school that had been described to him, it was certainly the most marvellous prison he'd ever seen.

The car pulled up at the front entrance. When Arthur got out, the sky was still as blue and the air still as warm and as fresh as it had been at the docks. He was grateful for that... For the time being, at least. What he wasn't particularly grateful for, however, was being told by one of the guards to go ahead alone into the school. They left his suitcase and guitar with him, gotten back in the car, turned and gone back the way they had come, down the long drive to and from the gates. He'd stood staring at the car, watching it leave in a sort of disbelief. How could they just leave him there!? He thought that quite disorganised and, dare he say it, _rude _of them. Huffing a colourful swear word under his breath, he glanced around for a couple of moments. It was mid morning, and he was alone out there; the other students and the staff were all inside, he assumed. In class, or such. He heaved up his luggage and turned towards the pristine steps of the entrance.

The school was very new, if he remembered rightly. The project had only been conceived fifteen years ago, and only opened ten years ago. It made sense that the buildings would still be in very good condition, everything else like the fact that it belonged to the United Nations aside. Upon entering through what he could only assume were the front doors (having to juggle his luggage at the same time, which he found a pain, too; couldn't those suited men have at least stayed to help him with _that?),_ he stared around again. He had – in all honesty – expected a ridiculously overly-fancy interior, with a high-ceilinged foyer and marble flooring; although both of those were apparent, the hallway was very clean and open, much like the exterior. Despite its simplicity, it amazed him... He'd never been in a place like this before in his whole life.

"Hello there." A voice spoke to him plainly, drawing his attention away from the scale of the ceiling. Only then did he realise he had been gaping like a fish out of water at it, which lead him to become slightly irritated with himself, especially since someone else had been watching.

He was approached by deeply tanned man, wearing an intricately detailed red and gold kurta (2), and a polite smile. Arthur wondered why, in such a plainly coloured room, he hadn't spotted this man first, before staring around like an idiot.

"Erm. Yes, hello." He replied awkwardly.

"Arthur Kirkland, isn't it?" The man offered his hand to shake. "Amitav Shaatri (3), to give you my real name, but please call me 'India'. The rest of the school is in assembly right now."

Arthur shook his hand. India? He could tell that the man was Indian, yes, that was very clear from his appearance and his accent, but why did he asked to be called by his country's name? He suddenly recalled, as if it had been completely obvious the whole time, that this was a school for national delegates... That was the most obvious explanation, still, he wondered exactly _why_.

"But we heard you were arriving soon, so I've been waiting for you here. Perhaps you'd like for me to show you to your dorm? I expect you're exhausted from travelling."

"Ah... Yes, I am rather." He replied. There were many other things that Arthur wanted to say now that he was here; many other things that he wanted to ask, but he decided to keep them to himself for the time being.

"Right this way, Arthur."

He picked his belongings back up and walked with India. The entire building seemed silent, and their footsteps rang out on the hard flooring. Arthur lagged slightly, though he tried to disguise it. The man was right, he really _was _exhausted – he'd just only realised now it had been mentioned.

"We've been looking forward to having you here." There was something serene about the way India spoke and carried himself. It was calming, but Arthur at the time wasn't very appreciative. Arthur felt like it could send him to sleep whilst he was still plodding along, his posture quite hunched in comparison to the other man's.

He said nothing.

"You understand what you're here for, don't you?" India enquired, as they left the back doors of the foyer and stepped out into an empty quad in the middle of the buildings.

"To an extent." Arthur replied, staggering a bit when India came to a sudden halt, forcing himself to do the same. "Urk-!"

"On your left are the male dormitories." India made a slight hand gesture to the left side of the quad, the smile still on his face, as if he were completely oblivious to Arthur almost tripping up next to him. "On your right, are the female dormitories." He motioned to the right side, before motioning in the same manner forward. "Across from here is the auditorium, where assembly is being held." He withdrew his arm and made a quick turn on his heel to face Arthur. "Now, do you have any questions?"

_'Plenty'_, Arthur thought, but he didn't seem to be able to muster the energy to reel them all off. He considered asking bitterly if India was going to leave him to find his dorm himself, as the guards had done when escorting him there. He opened his mouth, but decided to shut it again, shaking his head.

"Then I have one for you, if you don't mind."

Arthur's tone of voice went cautious, for a moment. "...Yes?"

"Do you mind me calling you England now? I understand it can take some getting used to."

He stared longer at India at that moment than perhaps he should have. The man smiled sedately the entire time. Awkwardly, Arthur glanced away again, clearing his throat a bit. "Erm. Yes. I honestly don't see the reason why, but I suppose if it's the done thing here..."

India gave a slight nod. "It is purely a formality." He turned again, beginning to walk. Arthur scrambled for his suitcase and guitar again. "You will refer to teachers by their country's name, and they will refer to you in the same respect. Outside of class, your friends – however – you needn't."

Friends? Arthur frowned at the word. He'd never really been all that good at making friends. He'd had one or two at his old school, but he preferred his own company. Well, that was what he liked to think, at least. Still, walking with India again, in the direction of the male dorms, he said nothing on the subject, though he did have something else to ask about, "Are you a teacher, then?" He was asking for confirmation more than anything. India didn't seem to carry himself like a student would, although he could have been wrong, and maybe he was just a prefect of sorts. He seemed to be older than Arthur was, at least.

"That's correct. I teach Advanced Mathematics here."

"I see..." Arthur muttered, another question crossing his mind. "So then, there isn't a student from India here, I imagine?"

"Not any more, no." The man chuckled lightly as he opened the door of the dorm building and stepped in, at least being courteous enough to hold it open for Arthur. "I attended from the year the school was opened, but as the teaching slot needed filling, I stayed after graduation."

"Oh." Arthur said out of politeness, but he didn't think he really cared about the details, though it made enough sense. India hadn't exactly seemed old enough to be a teacher otherwise. "So, only one delegate from each country, right? For both students and teachers?"

He thought India might have gotten annoyed at being asked a question that Arthur – in his opinion – should have been told about before coming. But the man remained as calm as usual. "There are a couple of exceptions, but generally, yes." (4)

It was when they began to climb the stairs up to the first floor that his demeanour changed.

"So... Assuming there was one, where's the England before me, now?"

As soon as Arthur asked that, he saw the smile drop from India's face into a flat line. He was one step behind the man on the staircase, and he wasn't looking back at him, but he could see that the emotion suddenly drained from his eyes, too. A pang of guilt hit Arthur inside... He didn't know why, but he shouldn't have asked that.

"Erm... Oh, sorry." He muttered, though it didn't sound too genuine.

India had been looking forward the entire time, but he glanced back over his shoulder then at Arthur, offering him another smile. "Don't let it trouble you." He faced back forward, then.

He figured it was none of his business, given that he received no actual answer. That was alright, he supposed, but he was curious nonetheless. Had India been close friends with the last England? Perhaps they had both been teachers and England was forced to leave suddenly. He walked with the man down a wide corridor of wooden doors, each labelled with a number on a gold circular plaque, and reasonably spaced out from each other. They were very obviously the dorm rooms.

India came to another halt at a door roughly halfway down the corridor. He reached into a pocket in his kurta, took out a key and turned towards Arthur, extending his hand. "Your uniform is in your room. I expect you're still tired, so you're free to sleep for some time if you'd like; however, please take a look at the class list and return your options to the front desk this evening."

Arthur took the key, half-mumbling a, 'Thank you'.

"If there's nothing else..." India stepped backwards, and motioned to the door. "I'll be sure to let everyone know you're here."

That sounded a little more foreboding than it perhaps should have. "I, erm... Alright." Arthur glanced at the door for a moment. The plaque read 118, as did the the tag on his key.

"Have a good rest. See you later, England."

India walked around him. Arthur watched him head back down the hallway for a few moments... _England. _It sounded strange, as a title. He hoped he'd be able to get used to it. His attention back on the door, he placed the key in the lock and turned it.

He'd had to put his suitcase down to accept the key, but once the door was opened wide, he picked it up and had to try very hard not to throw it into the room. There were two beds in the room, on opposite sides, separated by a wide window, through which the sun was shining and pale blue curtains hung. From what he could see, the room backed onto a field outside, meaning the rooms opposite would overlook the quad. One of the beds had various books and what appeared to be a couple of magazines on it, but he was tired, and his arms were hurting, and so he didn't care too much about that bed. The other bed had the Academy's blue and yellow uniform on it, neatly set out; a shirt, plaid pants, a tie and a sweater. There were duplicates of each article of clothing folded up neatly in a stack next to them, too. Upon closer inspection, after having brought his belongings inside and shut the door, Arthur indeed found that there was a class list and a few other notes on top of the bed sheets. Deciding he was well and truly too weighed down by the jet lag, among other things, he folded the clothes up as best he could, setting them on the floor by the bed in an organised pile, and placed the papers under the lamp on the night stand.

So this was it, he thought, whilst lying down on top of the bed facing the wall, resting his head on the pillow and immediately shutting his eyes, blocking out the brightness of the room. Part of him still didn't quite believe he was really there, at that fabled Academy he'd been told about one week ago. Arthur still expected that, when he opened his eyes, he'd be back in his flat, and it would have all turned out to be a dream.

* * *

Notes:

(1) – Ages have been tweaked to roughly work within a high school setting.

(2) - A kurta is a traditional piece of menswear in India. I wasn't sure how to describe it other than use the correct name for it.

(3) – India doesn't have a human name, and I don't have one for him myself, so I went with one that I found. If it wasn't clear, human names and country names will both be used in this story.

(4) - I changed this line because I realised if this wasn't the case, I wouldn't be able to include characters such as Prussia or Romano in later chapters.

Reviews are love, and I would appreciate it if someone would check over my grammar, too. I'm pretty sure it's okay but it's always nice to have a second opinion to work with. Thanks guys!

_-Lusky._


	2. II

_A/N: I got a couple of alerts, so before I begin, much thanks to those people, and I hope everyone enjoys. On we go._

* * *

_**II.**_

"But just look at his eyebrows!"

"Francis, don't be so rude!"

"Rude? I am simply stating the obvious, _non_?"

When Arthur awoke, his senses told him not to open his eyes immediately. His ears pricked at the sound of two voices in the room, and on instinct, he kept his eyes shut. At first, at least.

"You're terrible, you know!" One of the voices was female, and it was quite obvious the owner was chiding another person in the room. At this point, Arthur decided to lift his head from his pillow and show that he was awake to greet the intruders.

He found, upon doing so, that he was still in the dorm at the Academy, and not back home at all.

There was a girl in the room. He knew that much, because even though his eyes were blurry from such a heavy sleep, he could vaguely make out her feminine (red, fuzzy) shape. That, and he could assume it from the fact that he'd heard a girl's voice.

"Oh, you're awake!"

He rubbed at his eyes and grumbled, not caring what he said or who he said it to when he'd been woken up. "Ergh... What... What the bloody hell are you doing in here?" He sounded as if he had been trying to snap, but was too tired to do so. Which was pretty much the case.

"Tsk. And you say I am the rude one?" The other voice spoke again.

Upon blinking a few more times, Arthur saw that there was a young man lying on the other bed with his legs crossed, apparently peering over at him, but his eyes went towards the girl first. Unlike the other man, who was dressed in the blue Academy uniform, the girl wore a short red dress, which was most of the blur he had seen. It didn't take him long to focus on her properly. She had quite a shapely face, and yellow blonde hair (Arthur was a blond himself, but he'd liken his own hair colour to a sort of dark straw-like shade. This girl's was more of a gold), that looked as if it had been overly coiffed into slight ringlets; flattened down by a red ribbon across the top. He'd probably have thought she was pretty, had he not been half-asleep still.

The girl seemed to ignore the comment from the other man. "Sorry, maybe I should have waited until you were awake to come in."

"That might have been nice, yes." Arthur muttered wryly.

The student on the bed gave a snort, causing Arthur to glance over at him with a frown.

"Do not be so ungrateful." He was slightly older than Arthur, and had tousled hair of a similar colour to the girl's. He spoke with eloquence, and a heavy French accent. "She is here to give you a tour of the school."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at the older boy, taking note of his comfortable position on the other bed. "...Right. So what are you doing here, then? Are you my room mate or something?"

"_Oui._" The little smile on the young man's gaunt, stubble-covered face spread into a smirk.

So he was stuck rooming with a French student? _Wonderful. _Remarkably ticked off by this new piece of information, Arthur grunted and shook his head.

"You don't sound happy." The girl spoke again, amusement in her tone of voice. She had a similar accent to the French man, though not quite as thick and with a different twang to it.

_'That's because I'm not'_, he thought, but decided not to reply with that. "Who are you two, then?" He swung his legs around and sat up properly on the bed.

"Who are we?" The other man asked, as if he was offended by the question, raising an eyebrow and lifting his head from the pillow.

"W-Well..." Arthur began, feeling his eye twitch slightly in annoyance. He wasn't sure what it was about this French student, but his first impression of him wasn't as positive as he might have hoped from someone he had to share a dorm room with. "...Some kind of introduction might be nice." Although, from the way he voiced that statement, it didn't sound like it would be nice at all.

The girl smiled warmly, leaning down towards him and outstretching her hand. "Elise Claes. I'm Belgium."

He wondered what she meant for a moment, whilst shaking her hand, when he suddenly remembered delegates used their countries' names at the Academy.

"It's nice to meet you, England." Her tone was cheerful, despite his own.

"_Enchanté_." The other student rose from the bed and walked over, offering his hand, too. He didn't sound very... 'Enchanted', in Arthur's opinion. Then again, neither did Arthur himself. "Francis Bonnefoy; _France_, _mon ami_."

He shook his hand anyway. At least it would be easy enough to remember his name, he figured.

"Do you have a name yourself, _Angleterre_?"

Angleterre? Oh, _England_. Arthur twitched again. "Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

"Hmn. I think I much prefer Sourcils."

"...'Sourcils'?"

"_Eyebrows_."

Arthur was quite aware of his most distinguishing facial feature, but all the same, it irritated him whenever people brought it up. He retracted his hand away from the French student. "I sincerely hope you don't intend to call me that from now on!"

Francis chuckled, "I'm afraid I do, _mon ami_."

Elise spoke up again, for the first time looking genuinely annoyed at Francis's behaviour, "Francis, _please_."

The older male's sky blue eyes slid across from peering at Arthur towards the girl. "Hmn?" He put on a sing-song tone of voice. "_En Fran__ç__ais!_"

She pouted. "_S'il vous plait._"

"But I am not doing anything wrong, _mon cher_." He sounded all the more amused, meaning that really, he knew very well what he was doing wrong.

Elise shook her head, and turned back towards Arthur again. "Did you sleep well?" Her bright smile returned. "It's about four in the afternoon. Mr. India told me to come here straight from class. Francis let me in... I think we were supposed to wake you up." She shrugged a little. "Sorry."

"Well, I'm awake now." He replied. _'I think'_.

"Great! I guess we can go look around whenever you're ready, then."

Arthur recalled that he had arrived when the school's morning assembly was being held. It must've been at about nine in the morning. He'd been asleep most of the day, and he could still feel the jet lag. Hopefully he'd be fine for the following day. He nodded to Elise, standing from the bed. "I'm ready to go now."

"Oh!" She exclaimed suddenly. "Wait, before we go, did you fill in your class choices?"

"Um... Well, no." He glanced at the papers he'd left on the night stand that morning.

"Yeah, Mr. India told me to make sure you did that." She put her hands on her hips. "Mr. India's such a nice man, you should take his class if you're good at Math."

Arthur reached over to the small set of papers and picked them up, unfolding them, idly thinking that Mathematics wasn't exactly at the top of his list of classes he wanted to take. He'd already finished the class at his old compulsory school back in London, anyway. Then again, the Academy was a different kind of school. "I'll keep that in mind." He told her, beginning to read through what was on the class list.

To his surprise, Elise moved nearer to him, and peered over his shoulder at the list. "Anything look good?"

The classes were listed alphabetically, with the number of current students in each class at the side. The first few were, therefore, marked as "Advanced". Advanced Biology, Advanced Chemistry, Advanced English, Advanced Mathematics, Advanced Physics, Archery... _Archery_? That was an actual class?

"I'm not sure..." He replied after a few moments. He didn't have an answer for her, but he didn't want it to seem like he was ignoring her.

"Hmm... Well, you don't have to choose right away. Just as long as you turn your choices in to the front desk before closing time. That's seven; you've got three hours. We can look around first, if that helps."

Arthur thought it probably would. "Alright." He nodded to her, and shuffled the class list to the bottom of the paper pile. The next note along was entitled **'The Academy at Pangaea: General Rules'**. He frowned, just as Elise took a step back.

"Francis, are you coming with us?" She asked.

Arthur's eyes didn't move from the piece of paper, but he inwardly hoped the answer was going to be a no.

"Ah, of course. It is much too lovely outside for me too be stuck in this stuffy little room."

..._Dammit_.

The room was plenty bright and spacious, for a dorm, in Arthur's opinion, but that was perhaps in comparison to his dank, cramped rented place back home. He figured Francis probably came from a comfortable background, to have an opinion like that. That, or he was just a twat. Or maybe it was both. "Well, then." He spoke up again, curtly. "I'm ready to go."

He was a little cautious about leaving his belongings, particularly his guitar, when they did leave the room, but he shook it off. It was plain to see the Academy was very secure. He watched Francis lock the door behind them with his own key.

"Where do you think we should show Arthur first, Francis?" Elise asked.

They both walked either side of Arthur, down the corridor. "How about the common room downstairs?"

"Oh, sure, that makes sense, but how about after that?"

"After that? Well, there is the library nearby, _non_?" Arthur could feel Francis peering over at him again. "Sourcils does look like someone who might enjoy the library."

Arthur twisted his head and snapped at him, "Just what is that supposed to mean!?"

Francis smirked. "_Excusez-moi_? I was simply making an observation."

He didn't know whether the older student meant it as a compliment or an insult, but Arthur was the type to readily assume it was the latter. He huffed, "I do enjoy reading, if you _must _know."

"_Bien_. Then you will enjoy the library."

He still didn't trust Francis's statement, but he decided that, for the time being, he would put it to one side. The three of them stepped down to the lower level of the dorm building.

"There's more dorms through there." Elise made a hand motion to the hallway at the side, but she then walked towards two large, frosted glass doors that Arthur had failed to notice on his first arrival into the building. "But this is the boys' common room. The girls have one too, and there's a small joint one under the auditorium." She moved her hands, like she was about to open the door, but then lowered them again, and turned back around, a sudden – albeit very faint – sheepish look about her. "Girls aren't actually allowed in the boys' common room or dorms without a male student with them, so, if you'd do the honours, Francis..."

"Of course." Francis replied, stepping forward and pushing one of the doors, before holding it open for the other two.

"_Merci_!" Elise told him politely as she went inside. Arthur followed, muttering a half-hearted 'thanks' at him.

The common room was clean and open, like the rest of the school. There were a few large couches around various tables here and there, and armchairs dotted around elsewhere. There was a notice board on the far wall, and some plain, leafy plants on the windowsills, but apart from that, there wasn't much else to look at. Everything was in good condition – amazingly enough, for a boys' common room. But, most noticeably of all the factors, the room was deserted.

"...Hmn... There's usually at least someone in here." Elise glanced around. "That's weird."

"...T-There is someone in here..." An exceptionally quiet voice muttered. Arthur didn't take note of the words, and neither did Francis or Elise, apparently, and presumed it was coming from outside, so ignored it.

"Hmn, _oui_." Francis said. "Very weird."

"...I'm here..." The quiet voice muttered again, causing Arthur's ears to prick alertly this time.

He paused, then asked dryly, "...What was that?"

"What was what, Sourcils?" Arthur wasn't looking at Francis's face, but he could tell he was giving him a 'you're hearing things, you nutcase' look.

"...I-It was me..."

Arthur turned his head and suddenly, a bespectacled boy had appeared in front of him. He nearly leapt out of his skin.

"AGH-! B-Bloody hell!" He yelled, jolting backwards and nearly stumbling over.

"Ah, _Mathieu_! (1)" Francis walked over to the boy and gave him a kiss on each cheek to greet him. He then ruffled the boy's curly, reddish-blonde hair, and began to speak to him in what Arthur could only assume was French.

"Oh. _Bonjour, Mathieu_." Elise said, apologetically. She glanced at Arthur for a moment, watching him try to recover from the shock, before looking back over at the other boy. "Sorry we didn't see you there."

"...Oh, no, it's alright, Elise..." Despite the fact that he'd come out of hiding – or had been revealed, whichever – this Mathieu still had quite a soft voice. It was a good job the common room was otherwise empty, Arthur thought, or he'd have had trouble hearing what he was saying. Once over the initial surprise, Arthur looked at Francis and the other boy, noticing that they were having a conversation in their mutual language, first of all. Mathieu had a similar sort of hairstyle to Francis's, though the bespectacled boy's was slightly shorter. If he had had the same colour hair as Francis, Arthur would have presumed them brothers, or cousins, perhaps. Mathieu didn't look like a boy that stood out, but Arthur couldn't fathom why he would suddenly appear out of nowhere without him, Elise or Francis noticing. What was probably most striking about the boy was that he was carrying a stuffed white toy bear in one arm... It lead Arthur to wonder if that actually belonged to him. He was in the school's uniform, so he had to be too old to be carrying stuffed toys around.

Elise said something in French to disrupt Francis and Mathieu's conversation, before switching back to English. "Mathieu, this is Arthur. He's the new delegate from England."

Arthur cleared his throat. "A pleasure."

"Oh... So you're the new England. It's nice to meet you. I'm Canada, but please, call me Mathieu." He was rather polite, and Arthur decided at that point that he and Francis definitely were not related by blood.

"Hey, so, where is everyone?" Elise asked.

"Well... Just before you guys came in here, someone said there was another tennis match on... Um. So, naturally, everyone left." Mathieu half-smiled, and looked down at his stuffed bear. "But... Kumadingdong (2) said I should stay here and do homework..."

Kumadingdong? That was the toy's name? Arthur had to try very hard not to laugh.

Francis and Elise exchanged glances for a moment.

"Kumajirou is right, _mon ange_." Francis put his hand on Mathieu's shoulder, offering him a smile that was probably supposed to be warm, but looked quite creepy, from Arthur's point of view. "Homework is important, _non_? But, I'm sure Elise and I will be taking Arthur to see the tennis now. You're welcome to join us."

Whilst Mathieu 'ummed' and 'aahed' over the prospect, Elise turned to Arthur to explain. "If you're confused about the tennis thing, you'll see when we get there. It's pretty intense, so it's kind of a big deal when it happens."

Arthur wondered what she meant, and was about to ask further on the subject, when Francis spoke up again, "_Mes amis_; the tennis court it is."

They made their way out of the common room, and through a back door of the dorm building. Francis walked with Mathieu at the back, whilst Elise lead the group. Arthur decided to walk next to her and avoid the conversation from the two other male students. Not that he could join it anyway; he didn't speak French.

The afternoon was warm, though not baking hot, which was strange to Arthur, as it was November, and he was used to his home country being cold during winter. Though Arthur still didn't know where abouts in the world they were, exactly, he could take a guess. The boat journey had taken about a day from the unspecified location, meaning that they were probably somewhere in the central regions of the American Atlantic.

Trying not to think of how unbearably (3) hot it would get there come summertime, he glanced sidelong at Elise for a moment, wondering if she was going to say anything to him. Now that he had time to think about it, there were quite a few questions he wanted to ask; questions he would have asked India earlier that day, had he not been too tired to do so.

"Erm... Hey, can I ask you something?" He asked, when she said nothing.

She turned to glance at him, the waves of her hair tossing over her shoulder. "Sure, go ahead."

He was glad that at least she didn't mind answering questions for him – then again, he was pretty certain a student that did wouldn't have been sent to give a him a tour of the school, so there was really not much doubt in his mind in that respect – but now that she'd said yes, he didn't know which question to ask first. He paused for a second, to think, which made Elise blink in confusion. He ran through the events of that morning as quickly as he could in his mind.

"India asked me if I knew what my reason for being here was. I told him I knew to an extent, but he didn't say anything after that..." He told her, after a couple of moments more. "Do you happen to know why? I find it a little odd that he would assume I wasn't briefed completely before deciding to come here." Arthur worded his question specifically like that as, in fact, he didn't feel he had been entirely briefed, somehow.

"Well... Mr. India does usually ask abrupt questions. I think he only asks what he needs to know." Elise frowned, folding her arms, as if the enquiry had puzzled her.

"Oh..." He replied, furrowing his heavy brow. That didn't help much, but he remembered there was something more important he wanted to ask. "Erm... There was another thing he didn't respond to... I mean, perhaps it was a touchy subject or something, but..."

Elise let her arms drop, and glanced forward again, speaking before he could continue his sentence. "What happened to the last England?" Her voice had suddenly become a monotone, and it shut Arthur up instantly... How the Hell did she know that!?

"Um... Yes." He knew then, from the change in her attitude, and the fact that a sad look had crossed her countenance, that he really shouldn't have asked. Still, that didn't mean his curiosity had died down any less. "...S-Sorry." The edges of his lips twitched downwards when he took in her facial expression.

Elise shook her head, and offered him a gentle smile again, though it wasn't as bright as before. "No, it's fine, you didn't do anything wrong. No one can blame you for wanting to know what happened. Um, but..." She tucked her chin a bit. "I don't think it's... Really my place to answer that."

Silence fell between them, and Arthur could hear Francis and Mathieu's conversation as background noise... Although, the closer they drew to what he figured was their destination, the louder another noise got – the noise of more voices. Many, many more voices. They had walked around the side of the auditorium building, down a path that lead past three more buildings, though the noise seemed to be coming from further afield.

He felt bad for asking, which left him disgruntled. "I see." Of course, now he could only assume something had happened to the old England... Most likely, he had died, and probably in an unpleasant way, if both India and Elise wouldn't talk about it. It was a grim prospect, but it made sense in Arthur's mind.

Elise made her smile bright again, and pointed out the buildings they'd just stepped past. "The building in the middle, there? That's the library Francis was telling you about. The other two buildings are for most classes. The sports courts are just a little further on."

Arthur glanced around the area, glad of the subject change. "And... Everyone's really down at the tennis courts?" He sounded sceptical. "I'm sure it can't be that much of a big deal."

She chuckled, turning to walk backwards for a moment, reaching out and playfully tapping the end of Arthur's nose with her finger, causing him to flinch. "You have to see it to believe it, trust me."

He felt his cheeks suddenly go pink at her action. It was minor, and hadn't been meant any other way than light-hearted, but all the same, it made him flush; which just added to his frustrations. He folded his arms across his chest with a huff. "You know, I'm starting to think I ended up in the Academy of Not Giving Straight Answers, this morning."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." She kept smiling, but toned down her enthusiasm, and turned to walk with him again, down the sloped gradient of a hill that was before them. "I just didn't want to ruin the surprise."

He sincerely hoped she was referring to the tennis.

* * *

Notes:

(1) – **Edit: **In accordance with Maeneth's review, I changed Canada's name from Mattheiu, as I was spelling it, to Mathieu. As Canada's name is first spoken here by France, I decided to keep it as Mathieu rather than Matthew.

(2) – Canada is shown in canon to forget Kumajirou's name, and so, prepare for a lot of (bad) Kuma-prefixed related name jokes.

(3) – **Edit: **'Unsparingly' became unbearably. This was probably the word I was thinking of, and proves I shouldn't write in the early hours of the morning, haha.

Please don't hesitate to leave a review, and thanks for reading!

_-Lusky._


	3. III

_A/N:_

-**Tanglepelt: **First off, thanks for becoming my first reviewer on this story, haha! Thanks for faving the story; I'm glad you can't wait to read on!

-**SunDrop123: **Thanks a lot! I'm a bit paranoid about the way I detail my writing, since I worry that I'll overdo it and it won't make sense grammatically, so thank you for your comment there! Thanks also for faving/alerting!

-**Maeneth: **Thanks a lot for your feedback! I really should have checked the correct spelling of Canada's name before publishing the last chapter, but I've now changed it accordingly to your comment. I think what I was going by was the name that someone may possibly have used on an RP I was on a while back, but I'll be honest and say I didn't double-check, which I should have done. Anyway, if Mathieu is the more accurate spelling, I will use it from now on. Thanks again!

_Please note that this chapter contains an OC nation, as was specified in the note of the first chapter. If this is not to your tastes, you know where the back button is. With thanks to anyone who has read the story so far, and I hope you enjoy what's to come._

* * *

_**III.**_

Before long, the group had reached the tennis courts at the base of the hill... _Almost_. The array of students around the courts was so dense, not to mention loud, that Arthur likened them to a crowd at a concert. He'd never seen such liveliness at a tennis match on TV, nevermind at a school.

Elise began to wander off, leaning over and peering through what small spaces there were amongst the ruckus, her hands on her hips. "Back row seats, huh?"

Francis began to stroke his stubble pensively. "Is your Lars (1) here, _ma belle_? He could cut us a path straight to the front."

She gave Francis an annoyed look. "He probably is, at least half of the school will be here. But I don't want him to, you know what he's like."

"Then how do you suggest we make our way to the front?"

"The same way we usually do." She went back to searching for an opening, leaning quite far forward this time.

Arthur didn't think much of her leaning down like that, his mind occupied more with trying to process what was happening; until he took a look at Francis momentarily. The older male student was bending his back and neck – albeit subtly – backwards, and there was an unsettling smirk on his face. Arthur followed his eyeline, and saw that (although he couldn't see anything himself), the Frenchman was looking up Elise's skirt.

"A-Are you looking up her skirt!?" He exclaimed, quite horrified.

Francis's smirk diminished slightly, and he returned to a normal posture. "Is there a problem with that, Sourcils?"

"I... What- Yes! Yes! Of course there is!" He barked angrily, glancing over at Elise for a moment, hoping she wasn't listening in.. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious to them.

The older student raised an eyebrow. "Oh? _Angleterre_, do you mean to tell me you do not look at girls?"

"I-! Well...! I...!" Arthur stammered badly, feeling his face heating up. Was Francis implying something by saying that? He simply couldn't tell, with this guy. "What's that supposed to mean!? I certainly don't look up their skirts, for one!"

"You don't?"

"N-No! Do I look like I'm cut from the same... _Bloody perverse_ cloth as you are!?"

Francis snickered in response, "Sourcils, you wound me so. Am I not allowed to marvel at a woman's figure?"

Arthur hissed, "You're missing the point entirely, you twat!"

At this point, Elise rejoined them, having come back from wandering off further down the line of the crowd. "Hey, what's all the yelling about?" There was concern on her facial features.

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but Francis interjected with a smile, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Nothing, _mon cher_. _Angleterre _here was simply rebuffing my sophisticated sense of humour." He looked at Arthur for a moment, the smile becoming curt. Arthur took that as a sign to play along, which he did. He didn't fancy calling Francis out on looking up Elise's skirt and then have to explain _how_ he knew.

_Good grief_, he definitely knew by now that Francis was going to be, as he would word it, 'a pain in the arse'.

"Are you guys coming?" She asked, seeming to shake the matter off pretty quickly after that. "We don't have any choice but to push through, I'm afraid."

"_Bien_. I am sure _Angleterre's _eyebrows will part the crowd for us."

Arthur grunted, and gave Francis a hard elbow in the arm, stepping away from the other young man's side and shaking his head, hearing a satisfying _'Oof!' _upon doing so.

"This way!" Elise motioned for Arthur to follow her. She turned so her shoulder was in front of her, and began to squeeze and shuffle through the large cluster of youths. He followed suit, keeping a close eye on her so they wouldn't end up going in different directions.

It was easier than he had expected. Soon, they reached the tall mesh wall of the court, which had to have been at least been nine or ten foot high. The mesh walled in the entire area, which was apparently – from what Arthur could see – four courts. However, only one was in use, and that was the one everyone was huddled around. Once they'd reached the mesh, the crowd didn't seem as heavy as he'd thought – although, it was a lot more noisy where they were now.

They were also near the corner of the court, and just as Arthur was trying to focus on the game, he heard Elise on his left shriek in surprise. He looked at her quickly, and found her staring up at the top corner of the mesh.

"Aurel, what are you doing!?" She yelled. "Are you _crazy_!?"

Seated on that very corner she was shouting up at – which went seemingly unnoticed by everyone else in the crowd, as they were clearly too absorbed in the game – was a very strange looking boy. Arthur couldn't make out his features too well, as he was a good distance above eye-level, but it was plain to see he had pale skin and a mop of reddish honey-brown hair, and above all, there was just something _odd _about him, even from first glance. He was sitting strangely, too; not the typical way one would expect someone to sit on a wall, especially one of that height. He had one leg crossed over the other, and was practically perched on the edge. When the boy heard Elise, he turned his head downwards to look at her, giving her a grin and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

"Crazy? Perhaps I am!" He called down to her. "As for what I am doing, I am serving as the umpire to this game!"

Elise appeared to be at a loss for words, for a moment. "B-But if you fall, you'll get hurt!" The way she worded this, slowly, it sounded as if she was trying to make it come across as if she wasn't stating the most obvious thing ever. She shook her head in frustration, her concern becoming general anger, "And besides, you can't be a fair umpire when your best friend is playing!"

Arthur looked back towards the game, deciding that if the boy she was chiding was stupid enough to climb up there and fall, it was his own fault. There were two young men playing tennis – that was what Arthur had assumed from the start, but, when he actually focused his eyes to watch them, he saw exactly what Elise had meant when she had said _'you have to see it to believe it'_.

Yet Arthur wasn't quite sure he did believe it at all.

The player on the near side of the court was the easiest to watch, only for the simple fact that he wasn't moving like a blur. He was facing the net – of course – and so from the back corner, Arthur couldn't see his face. He had sleek black hair, and appeared to be quite tall, though again, it was difficult to tell from both the distance between the mesh and the centre of the court, as well as the speed he was moving at. He was darting up and down his end of the court, receiving the ball – which was bounding back and forth like a bullet over each side of the net at a remarkable speed as well – at an incredible pace, kicking up the dust from the court ground into a thin cloud that never had a chance to settle back down. It was difficult to watch him, but compared to his opponent, he was the more favourable to view. The other was, quite literally, a blur. Arthur had to blink a couple of times, then shake his head, then try to focus as best as he could on the far side of the net – but it was impossible. He wouldn't have even been able to deduce that there was an actual tennis match going on there, if not for the little dot pinging over the net, and the stereotypical grunts – one after another – from both players. All he could do was stare in shock and awe, and try not to gape – because none of the other students seemed to be staring it at the match in quite the same amazement, although they were enjoying it very much. There was every so often a sudden gasp of 'ooh' or 'aah' from the crowd, which would repeat over and over and get louder and louder, though Arthur couldn't quite make out what they were gasping at in particular.

His concentration broke momentarily, as the match began to hurt his eyes. He shook his head again, and tuned in to a conversation Elise had been having with another nearby student.

"...They've been playing this one serve for, like, half an hour." The student she was talking to sounded bored in comparison to the rest of the audience.

"Didn't they say after that match two weeks ago that they were going to just play one serve from now on?" Elise asked.

"That's what they're doing." The bored voice replied.

Arthur kept his eyes on the match, and decided that – with that piece of information in mind – he'd attempt to watch again. Just one serve? And they'd been playing for half an hour? That didn't seem possible... To have the stamina to do that, to be as fast as the blurs that they were creating, to have the strength to smack a ball with a racket that fast – they would have to be...

...Something in his mind clicked suddenly. They would have to be _superhuman_.

The Academy was a place where skills were honed to perfection, he'd been told back in London. When the man in the suit had told him that perfection meant superhuman, he thought it had been an extreme exaggeration. Now he wasn't so sure.

"It's pretty insane, huh?" Elise asked him, returning to his left side.

Arthur didn't realise he'd been gaping after all, and his throat was dry, so he had to swallow before he could form a coherent answer. "Just what... Are they?"

"They're students. Like you, and me, and everyone else here."

"They're not..." He began, stopping abruptly before he could say 'human'. "...They're... That's not possible."

"Everyone says that when they first see it." She said, moving closer to his shoulder and pointing to the far side of the court to direct his vision. "You can't see him, right? The player on the far side?"

"Erm. I can see a blur and a cloud of dust." He replied bluntly.

"That's Jovan Mladić. He's the Academy's delegate from Serbia. He's the best tennis player known on Earth, on any record. But, he isn't counted by normal league standards, because... Well." She gave a low chuckle. "It's pretty obvious why. If he went up against the official world number one, the match would be over in minutes. He'd only have to serve, and the other player wouldn't have a chance."

Arthur stared at the blur. That was a harrowing thought. The only response he could think of was, "Bloody hell..."

"And the guy closest to us? That's Konstantin Asenov. He's the delegate from Bulgaria. He's the only competition Jovan has..." He saw her shrug in the corner of his eye. "...Or has ever had, really. He's never beaten him, though. He's never even won a set against him. Still, Konstantin won't accept defeat. And I think Jovan likes having someone to practise against that at least gives him a slight challenge, so they've been rivals ever since they started at the Academy."

He winced inwardly, his eyes falling back on the player nearest to them. "That's... Well... He seems quite determined, I'll give him that." He didn't say this too sincerely.

"He's stubborn. He put a lot of effort into getting himself to a similar standard as Jovan."

Stubborn was, in Arthur's mind, quite the understatement.

"They're both seniors, though, and in a couple of weeks Jovan will be nineteen. He'll have to either cross over or leave the Academy. Both of them could have crossed over by now, but I don't think Konstantin will leave until he's defeated Jovan at least once."

He only understood half of what Elise had just said. He frowned and turned his head away from the game to ask her, "What do you mean by 'cross over'?"

"Oh, it's the term we use for-"

There was a loud _bang_, and she suddenly stopped mid-sentence, snapping her head towards the game. Both players had frozen, the remaining dust clouds still around them. On the near side of the court, a few yards behind where Konstantin stood – just turning his head around over his shoulder to look – was a small, crater like hole in the court ground, wisps of smoke rising from it. The crowd fell silent, everyone's eyes locked on the spot.

The now visible Jovan had won, but that wasn't the surprising part. They had been playing at such a speed, that the ball had been set alight... And had apparently become a small comet.

Walking with Elise and Francis out of his dorm earlier on, Arthur had started to adjust to the surreal atmosphere of the Academy. But now, after what he had just witnessed, the feeling that this was all just a dream came rushing back.

Jovan was the first to break the silence. He turned to the far side of the crowd and made a sudden, victorious outcry. The audience became just as lively once again, in an instant. Some of them clapped, some of them cheered aloud, and a student near to Arthur said, "Thirty-five minutes, eighteen-point-three-two seconds. That's gotta be a new record!"

Even though the Serbian delegate was now in plain sight, Arthur could at least make out he had a pale brown colour of hair, which was perhaps a little shorter than his own, and choppy. He didn't even need to look at his face to see that he was cocky; that much was as clear as day, based on how he walked down the crowd, milking them, as if he was some kind of celebrity. Then again, if he could play tennis like _that_, he probably was a celebrity – within the walls of the Academy, anyway. He waved his racket, trying to get the applause from the crowd louder and louder. And it worked. The noise became so loud, what Jovan was shouting triumphantly at them was no longer audible.

"Arrogant bastard..." Arthur muttered, though he was well aware he went unheard. He thought Jovan was overdoing it. What was the point in acting like that if he was always going to win?

Konstantin had meanwhile hung his head, dropping to sit on the ground. Anyone who looked close enough at him, and not Jovan, would have seen that he was panting heavily. He was completely out of breath. Arthur only noticed that, when Jovan came towards Konstantin – closer to their side of the mesh – Jovan was doing the same. Both of them looked exhausted. Both of them must have been exhausted.

After approaching him, Jovan extended his free hand down to Konstantin. They looked to be having a conversation, as he tugged him up off the ground, but it was inaudible. Once back on his feet, Konstantin turned towards the top side of the mesh wall, where there was a heavy-looking door that obviously served as the entrance and exit to the court. The spirit of the crowd began to diminish again, and people started to move about. Now that the match was over, so was the show, and so everyone would go off on their own accord.

Arthur continued watching, though, because after Konstantin stepped towards the door, Jovan reached over and grabbed his shoulder, his mouth moving, though his words were still unheard. Konstantin seemed to shrug him off in annoyance, but then he did it again, causing the darker haired student to turn around and face his apparent rival.

_Oh_. Arthur had a strange suspicion he knew where this was going, and so did quite a few others in the front row, as they stopped and stared as well. Konstantin was about an inch taller than Jovan, when they stood face to face with each other – though they both had to be in the region of six foot (2). Again, Arthur couldn't hear what they were saying, and it was difficult to try and lip read from that position, but when Jovan went in close to Konstantin's face, it was very obvious from the reaction that he had said something intended to anger or offend him... Because at that moment, he jumped him.

Once again, there was silence from the surrounding students, and the atmosphere dropped. The strange boy who had been perched on top of the mesh corner quickly dropped down to the court ground inside, before running over to the two brawling senior students.

"Gah! _Nu_! _Nu_, Kosta, he's not worth it!" He could be heard yelling out, as he attempted to tug Konstantin off of Jovan. To no avail.

"Oh, _good grief_." Elise droned, raising her hand and placing it on her forehead.

"ROMANIA. ROMANIA, YOU GET OFF THEM AND OPEN DOOR. NOW!" A voice yelled, sudden and frantic, from near to the court door.

The newcomer onto the court released his grip on the back of Konstantin's white t-shirt and stepped back with caution, before glancing at the door. He jogged over and unhooked the large bolt, moving out of the way thereafter when a short, ponytailed East Asian man bounded over the threshold and strode over to where Konstantin and Jovan were flailing, grabbing and throwing punches at each other.

"YOU BREAK IT UP NOW, _ARU_." The man's hands extended out of the long sleeves of his green silk shirt, and he reached down to Jovan and Konstantin's ears, pinching them and heaving them both up by them.

Both students winced in pain, but continued scrapping at each other with their arms, as best as they could with the ponytailed man trying to separate them.

"YOU STOP THAT." The man held them either side of himself, near dangling them by their ears, and raised his knee sharply to break their fighting up. "WHAT YOU THINK YOU DOING FIGHTING LIKE THAT!? EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!"

The scene fell silent. Jovan and Konstantin were glowering at each other, but neither of them spoke.

"You set bad example for other students!" The ponytailed man shook both of them by their ears, causing them both to hiss in pain. "You two supposed to cross over soon! I don't expect you fighting like this!"

Arthur wasn't sure he was more amazed by this man's ability to have separated two men both a considerable amount taller than he was with such ease, or by his broken usage of English. The man was clearly a teacher, or at least a member of staff, and he promptly dragged the two students towards the doorway of the court.

"Romania, you come too, aru!" He was heard saying to the strange-looking boy, whom stood at the mesh.

"What! Why!?" He responded.

"I saw you up on corner! You get detention for climbing mesh!"

Romania hung his head and dropped his shoulders in dejection, shuffling his feet after the teacher.

"That's China." Elise said quietly, leaning in towards Arthur again, just as the audience of students began muttering with each other about what had just happened. "He teaches quite a few classes. Whatever you decide to take, you'll probably have him as your teacher at least once."

"I see..." Arthur replied, though his mind was more occupied with the fight – as was everyone else's, he expected.

"EVERYONE GET BACK TO YOUR DORM BUILDINGS." China's voice yelled out again. The cluster of students had parted to allow him to lug Konstantin and Jovan away and up towards the school buildings, Romania still wandering along in their wake. On his command, the students began to walk away too.

"What a shame." Francis's voice muttered. All along, he had been stood behind Elise and Arthur.

The three of them stayed there a little longer, waiting for everyone else to depart.

"A shame about the match, or about the fight?" Arthur enquired.

"Ah, well, both, I suppose. It is a shame about Kosta." He replied, making an almost dismissive hand movement.

Elise hugged her arms around her waist a bit. "He won't cross over, at this rate."

There was that term again. They had been interrupted when Arthur had asked about it last, so he tried again, "Ah, right, what does that even mean?"

Francis's eyebrows raised. "You don't know?" He sounded surprised, and then shook his head. "Ah, _non_, _non_, of course you do not know. It is an internal secret within the Academy."

"...Internal secret?" Something about the way that the Frenchman had said that made Arthur worry, and so he pressed the matter, with caution in his tone.

"Um... Students here are trained to the best of their abilities. Often until they're perfect at something – anything; in rare cases, even _everything_." Elise began to explain. She looked at Arthur as she spoke, a slight frown on her face. "You know that much, right?"

He gave her a slow nod in affirmation. Francis glanced at Elise, and apparently picked up on the fact that she was uncomfortable, and so spoke up again.

"The human mind is a remarkable thing, Sourcils. When a student arrives here, they are already considered a genius. However, the Academy trains their mind, or their body, or both. It is a preparation stage, as once a student turns eighteen and becomes a senior, they are given the option to cross over." A seriousness that Arthur had yet to see from Francis came over his face. "Sourcils, let me ask you, what do you think the United Nations would do with men as fast and as strong as Jovan Mladić or Konstanin Asenov?"

"I... W-Well..." He'd been put on the spot there. "I'm not sure?"

"What use would Jovan playing tennis be if he would crush all his opponents into dust? There is no gain in that. If he is impossibly fast, if his stamina is unrelenting, why not train him to be a soldier?"

Francis hadn't even finished his explanation, but Arthur knew exactly what this Academy was about, all of a sudden, just based on that one word that had been uttered.

_Soldier_.

He couldn't deny that at that moment, his heart sank in his chest, and he felt rather sick.

"Better yet, why not create an entire school where every nation has a delegate that is, in a way, a genius? Why not take these students and train them until they can no longer be measured on a human scale?"

The weight of what Francis was saying was hitting Arthur harder, the more that he said. He stared at the Frenchman, his jaw lax. "So... When I was told that... We're made to become superhuman..."

"_Mon ami_. Do not look so grim. It makes you appear constipated."

Arthur would have snapped back at that, had his mind not been on the topic at hand.

"We do not become superhuman here, _non_. The Academy is what it is. It is a place for us to be taught, but when we believe that we can be taught no longer, we cross over."

"I... But..." Arthur began, but then shook his head with a sigh. "Alright, alright." This was important information, and certainly this wasn't the last he'd think of it, but that hadn't been what he'd asked in the first place. "So, 'crossing over'. What the Hell do you mean by that, then?"

Francis motioned with his head across the empty tennis courts. Not too far away, there were tall, dense trees, that reached from one side of the Academy's high, white brick wall, to the other, were Arthur to guess. The edges that the trees bordered, however, were not visible. "Beyond the trees is the southern gate. When a student requests to 'Progressively Graduate', to use its formal name, they proceed with an escort party through that gate, to an intensive training facility of sorts. What is in the facility, that is classified, but the students that choose to go, they are never seen again by the school; that is why we call it 'crossing over', _Angleterre_." Arthur might have been mistaken, but at that moment, Francis seemed to become saddened.

'Crossing over'... So, it was like they died.

Arthur gave a shaky sigh. That just brought up more pressing questions. "T-Then why didn't they tell me this before I came!?"

"Did you not hear me before? It is top secret." Francis continued. "Even so, no one is forced to cross over; it is merely recommended."

"Recommended _why_!?" Arthur wasn't sure whether he was more angry or upset right now. "Maybe I'm misinterpreting you, but it doesn't sound very voluntary to me!"

"It's not..." Elise spoke up, frowning also. She was wringing her hands by now. "When you graduate, you only have three options. You can cross over, you can stay at the school as a delegate teacher, or you can leave... But, um..."

Arthur glanced back at her again.

"...You can't go home. There's a town not far from the docks, north of the school. It's mostly run by volunteers, but graduates who don't cross over have to go there too. It's... To keep the program and the Academy as secret as possible."

"That is why crossing over is preferable, _mon ami_. Do you understand? Any other option, and we are trapped." Francis said.

Looking between them, Arthur didn't know what to ask next. He opened his mouth again, but nothing would come out. He dropped his head, staring at the ground by his feet, clenching and unclenching his fists... Did this mean what he thought it meant? Would he never be able to go back home? "But..." He managed to mutter. "...But why?"

"_Angleterre_, why did you choose to come to the Academy when you were given the chance? Why did you trust whoever came to you and asked you to come?" Francis asked, which caused Arthur to look back up at him.

"I... Uh..." He paused for a moment, then looked back down, crinkling his nose. He didn't want to admit the real reason why he had come, especially not to people he'd just met less than an hour ago.

"Were you on your own? Did you feel like you belonged somewhere else? Was that why you came, _mon ami_?"

"Francis, I don't think Arthur needs this right now..." Elise said. "Don't you remember how it felt when you found out about everything the first time?" There was genuine concern in her voice, and Arthur appreciated that, at least.

Francis seemed to pause for a moment, and then nod. "Of course. I apologise."

Elise moved over to Arthur, and hooked her arm around his, smiling up at him. "Don't worry about it, alright?"

_'Don't worry about it?'_ He couldn't go home, he was confined to this Academy, to this _island _in the middle of nowhere, and it sounded as if he had no choice but to later train to become a soldier. The ill feeling in the pit of his stomach returned. He felt like he had every reason to worry about it.

"Arthur?" Elise asked. "You um..." Her smile faltered, and she glanced over at Francis once, before peering back under where Arthur was staring downwards. "Hey, let's go sit down and have another look at the class list, okay?"

"We were going to the library, _non_? Mathieu decided before that he didn't want to push through the crowd." Francis said, and then Arthur realised that Mathieu had, in fact, not been with them since they reached the tennis courts. He hadn't noticed his absence... Then again, he hadn't noticed him appear. What a strange trait that boy had... "He said he would meet us in the library if we came."

The three of them headed back up to the southern buildings, Francis walking in front this time, and Elise still with her arm wrapped around Arthur's. He didn't care. His mind was too obsessed with what she and Francis had revealed to him, and he continued to stare downwards.

He felt her grip around his arm become ever so slightly tighter, for a moment, as she spoke again. "Everything will be fine, Arthur. You'll see."

Somehow, he didn't believe her.

* * *

Notes:

(1) – This is probably very obviously referring to Netherlands. I thought it was worth mentioning that I prefer Johan to Lars as his human name, but Johan was too close to Jovan, and I felt fandom-wise, Lars was more identifiable.

(2) – Heights, like ages, very possibly will be tweaked for the sake of this AU.

I could have tacked this chapter onto the end of chapter two, but I felt they worked better as two separate ones, personally.

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	4. IV

_A/N:_

-**Fanboy9000: **Thank you. I will write more. 8I

-**UsuiXMisakilover: **Thanks a lot for your review! It's probably worth mentioning since you've brought it up, there is the potential of yaoi in this story. Sorry if it's not to your tastes, and I'm kicking myself right now for not having mentioned it in the note in the first chapter, because I realise there are people who aren't a fan and will see the EnglandxBelgium outer tag and think it's yaoi-free. By no means will the potential pairing overshadow EnglandxBelgium as the primary pairing, and I'm doing my best in my head to avoid any distasteful pitfalls or clichés. When I originally said in my first chapter note that I wasn't sure whether to follow my head or my heart with this fic, this potential pairing was what I was referring to. Anyway I've never actually seen Gakuen Alice, is it similar to this story? I kept thinking of Final Fantasy VIII when I was trying to figure the plot out actually, haha!

-**Tanglepelt, pale-jonquil, Maeneth, Talon-Heartless: **Thanks for your reviews guys, and I hope you all enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

_**IV.**_

Arthur and Elise spent about an hour in the library, skimming through various books and deciding which of the classes Arthur should take. Francis had hung around for a short time, but had departed not long after to look for Mathieu. He didn't come back.

Whilst browsing through the many, many rows of books in the vast, high-ceilinged library (the entire place was colossal, by any standard. The building was as big as any other on campus, and it was filled with nothing but rows and rows of books in clean, varnished oak cases. It lightened his mood... For a bit, anyway), Arthur's mind wandered back to what Francis and Elise had told him about the 'Progressive Graduation', or 'crossing over', as they had called it. Again, he couldn't tell whether he was angry or upset about it... It felt like a mix of both. He wondered if it ever bothered the other students... Then he remembered what Elise had said to Francis, _'don't you remember how it felt when you found out about everything the first time?'_

Once the initial shock of the discovery had died down, the matter just brought up more questions. Why were these 'genius students' being cultivated to become soldiers? He thought suddenly of Konstantin and Jovan; of how impossibly agile and strong they were. Were Francis and Elise the same, or at least similar? Would Arthur himself become like them? There were too many mysteries surrounding this school, and the more he thought about it, the more he wished he hadn't come after all.

"Arthur? You play the guitar, right?" Elise asked, her voice hushed. She'd been sitting crossed-legged in a seat near to where Arthur was browsing, his class list in her hand. "It's kind of stating the obvious, but you should take Music."

"Hmn?" She'd knocked him out of his thoughts for a moment. "Ah, that makes sense. Alright."

"Umm... I know this sounds weird, but don't take English or Advanced English. Pretty much everyone whose English is sub par takes those, so the classes are pretty crowded compared to the other lessons." She paused. "...Well, actually, I guess you could take it, but it probably wouldn't be much of a challenge for you."

He remembered something then, and stepped away from the bookcase to go sit on the seat next to hers. "Ah, so does everyone in this school speak English, then?"

Elise nodded. "It's one of the requirements for selection."

Arthur wasn't sure he knew what the all requirements for selection were, although the most obvious one was that everyone was considered to have a genius IQ. He'd been told that much before he came. Still, he wondered how the UN had known that about him in the first place... Had it been through his old school back in the UK?

"Arthur, you're frowning." Elise said plainly, though when he looked back at her, she was smiling.

"Oh. Sorry." He muttered, not sounding all that sorry. Nor did he get rid of his frown.

She chuckled, shaking her head, the bangs of her hair slipping off her shoulders. "You sure frown a lot, huh?"

He didn't appreciate that observation, and huffed. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, not really. But you haven't smiled at all today. It might be nice if you did."

_'What is there to smile about?'_ He thought bitterly. Disgruntled, he looked away from her again.

"Sorry." She said. "You probably don't need me telling you to smile right now..." He was thankful that she realised that and apologised, figuring that she was referring to what he'd found out down by the courts earlier.

He gave a dismissive shrug, glancing back over at her for a moment. "It's alright."

Elise looked down at the paper in her hand again, seeming to bite the inside of her lip. "Hmn... You've chosen three classes... So, three more..." She blinked and raised her head. "Oh! What time is it?"

Arthur didn't know, so he opened his mouth to say so, but before he knew it, she was out of her seat and leaning around one of the bookcases and staring at the large clock situated on the above the library's entrance. Arthur could only see the very edge of it from where he was seated, so he didn't know the time either, until she turned back to face him.

"It's after half past five." She said, not coming back to sit down. "The cafeteria will be open for dinner; are you hungry? We've still got an hour and a half before the front desk closes."

Only then did Arthur realise he hadn't eaten since early that morning. "I... Suppose I am, a bit." He was, as a matter of fact, _very _hungry. He nodded, and got out of his seat.

The sun was setting over the western wall in the distance outside, the warmth of the air slowly fading with it. They walked back up the slope and to the southern building of the quad, where India had pointed out the auditorium to be.

"The cafeteria's on the ground floor, along with the joint common room." Elise explained. "The auditorium takes up the second and third floors." She smiled over at Arthur, pushing open the back doors of the building and motioning for him to go through. "You know where everything is now, right?"

He stepped inside, muttering a 'thank you'. "I think so."

"It's pretty easy to get around, once you know where everything is." She stepped away from the door. "Oh, also, the cafeteria's open from five PM until nine PM for dinner, so you don't have to rush. Breakfast is any time between six and nine in the morning, and lunch hour tends to be one until two in the afternoon."

It was fairly obvious where the cafeteria was, from the wide open doors and the chatter of students coming from inside. However, Arthur didn't expect the surprise that came when he and Elise stepped around the corner.

"HEY, GUYS, GUYS! LOOK, IT'S ENGLAND!"

Everyone seated in the cafeteria – which looked to be about fifteen, perhaps twenty students – turned their heads to look at the door in an instant. Arthur froze, bewildered. Even Elise seemed to flinch in surprise.

Thankfully, afterwards, most of the students turned back to their dinners one by one, although there were others that continued to look – but Arthur didn't care about them. What bothered him more was a tall blond boy with glasses perched at the end of his nose bounding over to him. He had a brown suede bomber jacket on over his uniform, and a wide, excitable grin on his face.

_'Oh bloody hell, what now?' _Arthur thought.

"Hey, man, it's nice to finally meet ya!" The boy said, before taking a bite out of the burger he'd apparently decided to carry with him (rather than leave it on his plate). In his other hand was a large soda cup. He held the burger between his teeth for a moment, held out his hand for Arthur to shake – then, after realising there was a small smear of ketchup on his hand, retracted it again, rubbed it down on the side of his uniform pants, and again outstretched it.

Arthur just stared, though after a few moments, with reluctance, he shook the boy's hand, hoping his fingers wouldn't get sticky from it. That would have been gross.

"Name's Jones, Alfred F., but you can just call me 'The Hero'!" The boy said, before chomping down on his burger again.

"I... I see." Arthur twitched a bit. "You wouldn't happen to be America, would you?" He deduced this from the boy's accent, but there were a few other reasons as to why he could figure that out.

"S'r'ght d'de." Alfred shovelled the rest of the burger into his mouth whilst he was still speaking. Arthur didn't know whether he wanted to ask 'pardon?' or not to that. He spoke with more coherence once he'd swallowed, "So d'ya have a name? I mean, I don't mind just callin' you England, bro. Well, maybe just Iggy."

"_Arthur_. Arthur Kirkland." Arthur replied as bluntly as he could.

Alfred beamed. "Artie?"

"_No_."

"Cool, Artie it is."

By now, he was annoyed. "Oh for the love of..."

Elise laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Hey, Alfred? We're gonna get some dinner and then figure out what classes Arthur's going to take. Wanna help?"

_'Dear God, please say no.'_ Arthur thought. Of course, his luck never worked that way.

"Yeah, sure thing! I was just about to go up for seconds."

Or thirds, or perhaps even fourths, as it appeared, when the three of them took a seat at the end of one of the long tables in the middle of the room. Alfred had stacked his plate up with two more big, juicy burgers. Elise and Arthur went for lasagne instead. Once seated, Elise pushed the class list across the table to Alfred.

"Here's what we've got so far."

"Whoa, dude, you're taking Archery?" Alfred said, before biting into what had to have been half of his burger.

Arthur wondered where the hell he was going to put that disgustingly large amount of food on his plate. Then again, at the rate he was eating, he didn't doubt the boy would polish it all off. "Erm. Yes." Archery had appealed to him, oddly enough. The class was of a small size; when he'd brought that fact up with Elise, she'd told him it was because most students favoured Shooting over it.

"N'to." Alfred said with his mouth full. He promptly swallowed, and seemed to scan through the rest of the options with his eyes for a minute or so, before leaning back in his seat. "Pfft, I dunno dude. Most classes are _booooring_. Geeze, I could just fall asleep looking at their names!"

"Thanks, Alfred. You're a world of help." Elise said, matter-of-factly.

"No problemo!" He grinned, missing her sarcasm entirely.

She just shook her head, placing her fork down and reaching over to take the piece of paper back. Arthur decided to finish eating before looking at the list again, which didn't take long, considering how hungry he actually was. Now that his stomach was full, and he wasn't distracted, he could focus better on picking the classes.

For a moment, he looked up at Alfred. "What classes don't you find boring, then?" He asked.

Alfred was halfway through his next burgers by now. He apparently had no clue there was a smudge of ketchup on his face. "Huh." For the first time since Arthur met him, he looked like there was actually something going on in his brain. Well, Shooting's pretty fun. So's Kickboxing. I guess Woodwork's pretty fun too."

Arthur subtly took up the pen Elise had been carrying around with her and circled around few more classes on the list. Elise had suggested he take Advanced Mathematics earlier that day, so he figured that wouldn't be a bad option. At the very bottom of the list was World History, which he also circled. Those, along with Archery, Music and Self-Study (which, to the extent of his knowledge, meant a free period intended for extra study time), made five out of the six he needed. He glanced up and down the list again, before choosing his last subject. Cookery.

"Are you done?" Elise asked with a smile. She leaned over to look at the circled classes.

He nodded, placing the pen back down.

She grinned. "We might have a couple of classes together, then. (1)"

"Nice going, dude, what'd you choose?" Alfred pulled the list back over towards him, taking a long, loud slurp of his soda. He glanced through the list, looking a little disappointed when returning it again. "Aw, lame, we won't be sharing any classes."

_'Thank God for that.'_ Arthur thought curtly, taking the paper back in hand.

Once they'd cleared their plates away, Arthur and Elise said goodbye to Alfred briefly, before the American boy wandered back up to the cafeteria queue for dessert. They then headed out to the most northerly building of the campus – the first building Arthur had set foot in that morning. It had been empty at the time, but now there was quite a bit of movement in the foyer. Just left of the grand front doors, underneath a large marble staircase he hadn't noticed the first time he'd been there, was the front desk, behind which a lady in what looked to be a white toga (he had to look twice, just to make sure he'd actually seen it right), her dark hair scraped up into a messy bun, was working; speaking over her desk to the few students that came up to ask for things, or make enquiries, or hand things in. Once the line in front of them had passed, Arthur handed the class list to the woman, who gave him a nod and placed it in a small basket of papers on her desk.

"I guess that's it, then." Elise said, walking back to the quad with him. By this time, the sky was becoming a dark blue overhead. "I've got some homework to do, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded to her. "Alright. Goodnight, and thank you, Elise."

"Don't mention it." She smiled, stepping in the direction of the girls' dorm building, and giving him a small wave over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Arthur!"

He watched her wander towards the building for a few moments, before turning towards the opposite dorms. He thought it might have been too early to call it a night, but he supposed there wasn't really much of a choice. Besides, he was still a little lagged from the journey earlier. He guessed that maybe a shower and an early night wasn't such a bad idea.

Francis wasn't in their dorm. Arthur wondered to himself where he'd actually gotten to. He hadn't seen him since he'd left him and Elise in the library to find Mathieu. He didn't worry particularly, though. He was probably off with his friends, or doing work in the common room. _'Or off looking up girls' skirts'_,he added to himself. He could tell Francis was going to be a pain from now on, one way or another.

He didn't spend too long in the bathroom. Afterwards, he decided to unpack his clothes and place them in the wardrobe on his side of the room, and slide his guitar underneath his bed. He then shut the curtains, got ready for bed and shut the lights off, before finally laying down.

He'd put off thinking about the day's events until then. Everything he'd been told about the Academy's purpose, about the 'superhuman' potential of the students, about 'crossing over'. Lying in bed, the thoughts began to flood back in. Arthur remembered in particular what Francis had said.

_'Were you on your own? Did you feel like you belonged somewhere else?'_

There was something very striking about those words. It wasn't just that Francis had been right – not that Arthur was willing to admit that out loud, but something about him being right had been just... Odd. He wondered how he knew. Despite what he'd seen so far – in particular Jovan and Konstantin's tennis match – he didn't think Francis had the power to read minds, although, he very much could have been mistaken (as worrying as that thought was). Even though the students here were each special, every one of them considered a genius, and frighteningly talented, some of them to the extreme where they could be classified as superhuman, he just doubted that was the reason Francis had known.

Thinking it over once more, as he shut his eyes to fall into sleep, Arthur answered the question to himself.

_'I'm not sure I know where I belong at all.'_

* * *

He awoke early in the morning, to the sound of Francis pulling open the curtains, illuminating the room in the brilliant pale sunrise. He winced at the brightness, swearing in a dozy mutter.

"Good morning, _mon ami_." He heard Francis saying, whom sounded a little tiresome himself. "There is something here for you."

Arthur opened one eye, and Francis dropped an envelope onto his night stand, walking past him towards the bathroom.

"It was on the floor by the door. Someone must have slipped it under last night." The Frenchman yawned, before shutting the door of the bathroom behind him.

Rubbing at his eyes, Arthur sat up in bed. He reached over for the envelope, which had 'England' written on the front in neat handwriting, and opened it with as much dexterity as he could muster after just waking up. There was a small slip of paper inside – his class timetable.

He gave a heavy yawn, placing both envelope and slip down on the night stand. He made the bed, and walked across to Francis's side of the dorm. Francis's night stand had a small digital clock on it, and he checked the time briefly. It was seven-thirty AM – though, Archery begun at eight. He didn't have much time for breakfast, and was at least glad he'd showered the night before. He pulled on his uniform quickly, and knocked on the bathroom door before he left.

"Oi, Francis! I'm going, alright?"

He got no reply, but he didn't care. He took his room key and his timetable with him, and jogged to the cafeteria, which was fairly empty at that time, thankfully. It was quarter-to-eight by the time he'd finished, though, and he then realised he didn't actually know where Archery took place. Taking another look at his timetable, the class was listed as taking place on the Archery Field. _'Helpful'_, he thought wryly. He decided, not wanting to be late for his first class, it would be ideal to stop and ask someone. There was a brunet boy carrying a pile of books across the quad who looked fairly approachable, and so he asked him.

"Oh, yes, it's to the south. If you keep going past the library and classrooms, it's just a little further on from the track and the tennis courts."

He thanked him quickly, and jogged off, at least grateful he knew how to get to the tennis courts, at least. It was, however, quite a long journey, even when he broke into a run. He went down the slope, passed the library building, and the class buildings, and came to the tennis courts, slowing to a quick walk by then. Luckily, he could make out a couple of spots in the distance, across the field behind the courts, that looked like targets. There was a man stood there, and a few others wearing white. They must have been the students... _Oh_. Arthur realised, as he got closer, they were in their gym kits. Presumably. He hadn't been given one of those... Was he supposed to have been?

He reached the group, panting a little.

"England." A plain voice said.

Arthur glanced at the man – obviously the class teacher. He was tall, despite the fact he looked to be East Asian, and wore glasses; his hair exceptionally long and in a thin plait. Seeing that he was wearing a blue silk tunic and an ornately pointed gold hat, Arthur seriously began to question why the teachers didn't also have a set uniform. All the same, the man had an intimidating look about him. His expression wasn't stern, but it was blank and unchanging.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Excellent. Now you are here, let us begin."

A few of the other students – there was less than ten of them – moved as if to mutter to each other, but the teacher's neck craned towards them, and they froze in an instant. Now at a closer range, Arthur could see everyone else also had a bow in hand.

"Go. Begin." The teacher motioned with one of his hands to the group of students, the other folded behind his back. On his command, they shuffled off towards where the targets were, about twenty or so yards further south. "Bulgaria, you come here." He added.

Arthur watched the dark-haired student at the back of the group pause, and turn back to face the teacher. He remembered him – it was Konstantin, one of the students that had been playing tennis the day before. He didn't appear too happy to have been called out.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Let England use your bow for this lesson. I need to take the measurements. But before that, you need your punishment." The man didn't speak particularly harrowingly, but all the same, his words were daunting. "Don't think I didn't hear about your fight yesterday. I'm extremely disappointed."

"What!? I already got punished for that!" Konstantin frowned, and Arthur could see there was a slight reddish-purplish bruise on the side of his wide-set jaw. He remembered the fight that had taken place yesterday, though he hadn't realised any of the brawling had actually caused injury to either student involved.

"Catch and Fire. (2)" The teacher reached into his tunic and pulled out an apple.

Arthur's eyes widened ever so slightly. Did that mean what he thought it meant? Konstantin, however, just rolled his eyes.

"Who's my victim?" He asked.

"Poland." The man turned towards where the other students were getting ready, and called out at a near deafening volume, "POLAND."

A blond boy, whom seemed to be a bit on the short side, with hair similar to Francis's (albeit less wavy) trundled over with his bow, looking about as bored as Konstantin was.

"Yes, sir?" He mumbled, raising an eyebrow at the teacher, whom instantly seemed to conjour up a piece of string from nowhere before tying the apple to the boy's head. His expression went straight from a blasé one to a worried one. "Nooo! No way!"

"We all know which of you is more likely to die." The bespectacled man said. It seemed as if he was trying to calm Poland down. Which, to Arthur, didn't seem to be much help... Arthur himself was having an inward panic attack, too. _'We all know which of you is more likely to die'_! That implied that one of them was going to...! He gaped at the teacher, stammering, unable to find the words of protest he wanted to produce...

"...Bummer." Poland pouted, kicking his feet, before turning to Konstantin. "You better not miss, broski. Or I'll, like, haunt you in the afterlife. Or something."

Konstantin wandered off towards the expanse of field between them and the targets. Poland wandered off over there too, but not as far away, seeming to drag himself there. The teacher followed them, leaving a near-horrified Arthur gaping at the scene.

This couldn't be happening... Surely even a school like this one wouldn't allow something so dangerous!? He jogged to catch up with the teacher.

"H-Hey...! Mr...?" He stammered.

"Mongolia." The teacher replied, coming to a halt near where Poland stood. There was a heavy-looking bag of arrows between them.

"Erm... R-Right." Arthur shook his head. "W-What the _bloody hell_ is going on?" He felt awkward talking back to a teacher, especially on his first day of class... Scratch that, his first _lesson_ at the school. "You can't... They can't seriously be about to-!"

Mongolia held up his hand to stop Arthur from talking. Which worked, but irritated Arthur all the same. He didn't answer, but he did continue to speak to Poland first. "Go." Then, he turned to Arthur. "Step back, unless you wish to be hit."

Arthur didn't think he'd ever moved back so quickly. He peered over at Konstantin in the near distance, his bow in his hand; his back to Poland, whom stood roughly ten or eleven yards away from him. Poland removed an arrow from the bag at his feet on Mongolia's command. His eyes went back to the student further away, whom was stood with an unnaturally calm posture. Before Arthur knew it, Poland had shot the arrow from his bow at Konstantin.

When Arthur had seen Konstantin play tennis the day before, he had been more amazed at Jovan's abilities; but, seeing what Konstantin could do on his own was quite amazing in itself. He seemed to pivot at the last moment, just before the arrow could pierce through him, and he snatched it clean out of the air with one hand, bringing up his bow with the other and drawing the string back, all in a fluid motion. If Arthur had then blinked, he would have missed the apple on Poland's head being shot in half.

Again, Arthur began to wonder if this was all some strange kind of dream. "B-Bloody hell..."

Mongolia, who hadn't stepped back quite as far as Arthur had, moved back forward towards Poland (who had seated himself down on the grass with a huff), and picked up the two apple halves. They had been cleanly halved, but with blackened marks down the middle – burn marks, most obviously – as like the tennis ball, the arrow, a good few metres behind Poland, had landed smoking in the ground.

Poland began to pat the top of his head with a frown. "He better not have burnt my hair..."

The teacher brought both halves of the apple to his eyes, squinting and examining them very, very closely for a good few moments.

"That wasn't really punishment." Konstantin said, when he'd walked back over.

Mongolia put the apple halves into his tunic. "Of course it wasn't. I wanted to make sure you were still in top condition after yesterday."

Arthur winced. Was having another student fire at his back really the right way to do that? What if Konstantin hadn't been in top condition? Shooting him would have made things worse! He was beginning to regret taking this class; he seriously questioned Mongolia's teaching methods.

"Poland, get on with your work. England, come here." The man said, without turning to either student. They both complied, Poland picking himself up along with his bow, and wandering back over to the targets. "Bulgaria, your bow." Mongolia held out his arm, taking the bow from Konstantin when he handed it over.

Before Arthur knew it, the bow was shoved into his hands.

"Hold the grip and pull on the string." The teacher instructed him.

Still quite surprised – and not to mention shaken, from what he'd just witnessed, Arthur steadily took hold of the grip at the front of the bow, holding it upright and pulling on the string as he was told to do.

"Further. As far as you can pull it." Mongolia said, walking around Arthur and examining his arm length, as well as the bowstring. "Hmn..." The man leaned in close, too close for Arthur to consider comfortable, and he had to try very hard to keep looking forward and not tumble over backwards. "Good. Good. The Woodwork class should be able to craft you a bow by the end of tomorrow." Mongolia took a notebook and pen out of his tunic this time, scribbling down on it. "Until then, Bulgaria's will do for you. I suggest you also get yourself a gym kit."

Before Arthur could even think of anything to say, Mongolia stepped away from them, across the field towards where the rest of the class was practising.

"You're pulling on it wrong." Konstantin said after a couple of moments. Arthur glanced up at him, and saw he was smiling, in an (unexpected) sheepish way. In fact, his face didn't seem to match up with the bored, nonchalant one he'd seen briefly before the round of Catch and Fire. "You need to use two fingers. You'll see why when you shoot."

Arthur lowered the bow, glancing away, feeling the tips of his ears heat up. He hadn't realised he'd been gripping the string with his whole hand, and he'd probably looked stupid in doing so. "R-Right." He muttered. "Two fingers."

He followed Konstantin to a free target, and the older student showed him how to properly hold and fire the bow. Arthur wasn't sure why a student was teaching him rather than the teacher, but he didn't particularly mind. Mongolia seemed to be busy helping the other students, and there was something Arthur found quite abrupt and off-putting about the teacher's general attitude anyway. After the tennis match and the fight that had happened, Arthur had expected Konstantin to have been a much harsher person than he turned out to be during that lesson. He was nice enough whilst teaching him, so he decided he'd make his judgement of him based on that, rather than what he'd seen on the tennis courts.

Arthur didn't think the matter would come up, but it did.

"Francis said you were at the courts yesterday." Konstantin gave him a docile look again, almost like he was apologising. He'd sat down on the grass to tweak the bowstring.

"Um... Yes, I was." Arthur replied, deciding to sit opposite him. "You're a very impressive player." That, he told himself after speaking, was the understatement of the year.

Konstantin shrugged. "Thanks, I guess. You probably didn't need to see me lashing out at Jovan on your first day here though."

"Erm... Well, I can't say I know the reason you did it, so..." He at least figured Jovan had said something scathing to Konstantin, which had set him off.

"Yeah, er. Sorry, anyway."

Taking a closer look at him, Arthur noticed Konstantin had a strange look about him. It wasn't that his face was strange, but there was a – dare he say it – weird kind of glow to his deep-set grey eyes and lightly tanned complexion. He wondered if it was anything to do with what he'd seen him do the previous day, or what he'd seen him do in that game of Catch and Fire. He decided not to ask him about it, though.

"So, you're friends with Francis, then?" Arthur asked, not sounding too bothered about whether he was or not. He just wanted to end the silence that had fallen between then.

"Yeah. Well, all of the seniors who started together in freshman year, all of us are pretty close." Konstantin shrugged. "I guess four years together here does that to you."

"Oh. All of you, then?"

"Mmn." Konstantin shook his head, which confused Arthur, given his answer. "Yeah, all of us. Even Jovan and I are." He looked apologetic again. "Eh. You probably wouldn't have thought that, though."

"Well, no." Arthur still thought Jovan seemed too arrogant for his tastes; he couldn't imagine being friends with him. "Elise said something about the two of you being rivals..."

The older student gave another shrug. "That's true too. We were best friends up until the start of junior year." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I got kinda carried away not ever being able to beat him, so we fell out a lot, and I became better friends with my new room mate."

"Oh, I see." Arthur replied, still not sounding all that interested. It clicked in his mind, however, that Elise had yelled up at that strange boy who'd been sitting on the mesh corner at the tennis match, _'you can't be a fair umpire; your best friend is playing'_. Was Konstantin referring to him?

He didn't have time to ask. The older student stood back up, and Arthur followed suit; the bow returning to his hands.

"When you shoot, keep both your eyes open, alright? It's normal to want to shut one, but you see twice as well with two." Konstantin explained to him, moving the bow in his grasp to the right height and angle again.

Arthur felt, after the hour of the lesson had passed, and Mongolia had begun to dismiss them, that Konstantin might have given him a better answer to the questions about the school that were still present in his mind. He approached him again whilst the students headed back north to the class buildings. "Um. Excuse me..." Oh, _God_, he realised he couldn't actually pronounce his name... "Erm... S-Sorry, what was your name again?"

The older student nodded. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't introduce myself. It's Konstantin. Konstantin Asenov." The way he said his own name was much more complicated than Arthur remembered Elise saying it, which didn't help at all.

"Konst... Konstant..." He furrowed his brow in frustration.

To his surprise, the other student laughed lightly. "It's a mouthful, I know. Call me Kosta. Everyone calls me that anyway."

"Kosta... _Right_..." That didn't change the fact that Arthur was embarrassed over not being able to pronounce his full name, but at least now he didn't _have _to. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Now that he'd gotten the affirmation, Arthur wasn't sure how to word his question. "Could you tell me what 'crossing over' means?" He figured Konstantin would give a different response to Francis and Elise, and he'd be able to piece the answer together himself.

Konstantin frowned, turning his head to look at him. "Umm... You weren't told already?"

"I... Well, I heard that you were 'crossing over' soon..." Arthur replied awkwardly, feeling guilty for having seemed to change his mood. "I thought that perhaps you could give me a better... Understanding of what happens... I-If it's not too much trouble, of course."

Konstantin stopped outside of the tennis courts, causing Arthur to stop as well.

"There's..." He begun, but he glanced around for a moment, as if to check no one else was in the vicinity. "There's a training facility, south of here... When we 'cross over', it means we graduate and go there."

"I know that much." Arthur said. "But what happens there? It's not _actually _an intensive training unit designed to turn students into superhuman soldiers, is it?" He made himself sound amused on purpose. "I-I mean, anyone who would think up such a ludicrous idea would have to be... Out of their mind!"

"Ehh..." Konstantin dropped his shoulders a bit. "No, actually... That's exactly what it is... More or less."

"Wh-What!?" The disbelief Arthur had felt when he'd asked about crossing over to Elise and Francis the first time returned, as did the sickening feeling in his stomach. "So, then... We're really..."

"Sorry... It's a pretty nasty surprise when you first find out about it." There was a look in Konstantin's eyes, like he was hiding something and was approaching the conversation with caution, so as not to reveal it. "Uh... Yeah, look. It's kind of hard to explain. If you want to know in detail, you should ask the Vice Principal. He overlooks the process of crossing over; it shouldn't be hard to get an appointment with him."

"I... Right, okay. Thanks." Arthur shifted awkwardly on the spot. He didn't realise that since Konstantin was probably going to cross over very soon how bringing up the subject with him would be. "Sorry, if I shouldn't have asked."

Konstantin offered him a bleak smile. "It's fine." He glanced over his shoulder at the buildings ahead. "Eh, sorry to cut this short. I gotta go get changed before my next class. See you later, England."

And with that, he had left him alone at the tennis courts. Watching him jog away, Arthur at least now knew one new piece of information – that he could get an appointment with the Vice Principal to discuss 'crossing over'. In fact, he hoped the Vice Principal had the answers to all the questions Arthur had stuck in his mind: why the students couldn't return to their homes after graduation, what the purpose of this Academy was, what went on within the so-called 'training facility' in the south... And more importantly, why Arthur was there, himself.

* * *

Notes:

(1) - In the original version, this line was 'we'll have a couple of classes together then'; however, having thought about it, this wouldn't be possible. Not all classes could take place simultaneously, as if different students take different mixes of classes, their timetables would have to differ to fit accordingly.

(2) – I don't know if this is the correct name of the game. All I get from Googling 'Catch and Fire' and 'archery' together is The Hunger Games.

Because of fanfiction-dot-net's ratings, this story may be given an MA version, which will be uploaded to yourfanfiction-dot-com. If I go through with this, which won't be for a while until I've gotten more chapters finished, I will leave a link in my profile. I'll be sure to keep you guys posted on this decision as the story progresses, too.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	5. V

A/N:

-**Tanglepelt: **Thanks a lot, and yes, Konstantin will appear more in this story! I'm not going to give away anything, but yeah, he's definitely going to be sticking around.

-**UsuiXMisakilover: **I have heard of Gakuen Alice before, but yeah, I've never watched it or known anything about it in detail. Thanks for your review, anyway!

_It's worth noting I've made a few minor edits to the earlier chapters. Nothing major, just a couple of errors I wanted to fix. I've noticed the uploader also doesn't like me putting question marks and exclamation marks together, so I've tried fixing that as best I could._

* * *

_**V.**_

Arthur's next class was Cookery. The time he spent walking there, he realised he should have asked Konstantin actually _how _to make an appointment with the Vice Principal. When he entered the designated classroom, in the western class building, however, he saw Elise and Francis were already present. He figured he could ask them.

They were within a group of other students, all of them crowded around one counter-top table, some seated on it, some sitting at stools, but all of them clustered together and gossiping away. Was that the whole class, then? Arthur shut the door and approached them.

Francis was the first to notice he was there, and looked horrified all of a sudden. "Oh, _mon dieu _above, please, _non_." He said, bringing a hand up to his forehead in an overdramatic manner. "_S'il vous plait_, please, not an Englishman in this class!"

"Ahhhh! _Nooo-oooo-ooooo_! We're _dooo-oooo-ooooomed_!" A young, tanned brunet man sat on the counter next to Francis laughed.

Arthur hissed, "What!? What the bloody hell's that supposed to mean!?" He directed that at Francis, rather than the brunet student.

"It means that our lives are in peril, simply for you being in this room!" Francis again made large, hammy motions with his arms. "Anything you cook will surely explode!"

"Are you suggesting that I can't cook!?" Arthur spat angrily.

"I am not suggesting it, Sourcils, I am stating it as a fact."

Elise slapped Francis on the arm, scowling. "You're terrible!" She chided.

He just laughed along with his brunet friend, rubbing his arm where she had hit him. She shook her head and turned to Arthur.

"Don't listen to them." She gave him a slight smile. "They think they're _hot shit_..." She peered over at the two male students with a glower, before smiling at Arthur again. "...Just because they're top of the class."

Arthur frowned over at them. "I see."

"How was your first class?" She moved around on the counter so she was sat in front of him, her legs crossed.

"It was alright, I suppose."

"Just 'alright'?"

He nodded. "It was a little... Strange, to be perfectly honest." He thought of the game of Catch and Fire that Konstantin and Poland had been playing. He almost felt as if he hadn't witnessed it at all, it was that weird to think of.

"What class was it?" She asked.

"Archery."

"Oooh..." She said slowly, nodding. "Yeah, I hear Mongolia's a pretty tough teacher." Arthur didn't think 'tough' was really the right word to describe him. "Then again, most teachers here are."

As if on cue, the door clicked open and the group of students all slipped out of their seats and to their correct places in the room.

"Hello everyone!" Said a bright, cheerful voice, and Arthur turned to see a woman in a green dress approaching the front desk. She had long, pale brown hair, which was scraped back in a ponytail and held under a white headscarf at the top. He didn't get a good look at her face at first, but she didn't look to be much older than any of the students. Once she'd pulled out a white apron from under her desk, she pulled it over her head and began talking again. "We'll continue with our-" The woman glanced up, and her eyes fell on Arthur. "Oh! We have a new student?"

Arthur stared at her, not knowing if that was a rhetorical question or not. She made a motion with her hand for him to step to the front, then. "Come; come here!"

He didn't expect this. He was a little irritated at the woman for having called him to the front for an introduction. Mongolia hadn't done this... But then again, Mongolia probably had a much different manner of teaching. When Arthur stood facing the rest of the class, he noticed it was at least twice the size of the Archery class, anyway, if not bigger.

"Settle down, guys!" The brunette teacher said, standing to Arthur's left. Despite the fact they'd moved to their seats, quite a few of the students were muttering between one and other. "Guys?" She clapped her hands, smiling serenely. "_Guuuys_!" She repeated in a sing-song tone. When the class still wouldn't listen to her, what she did next made Arthur almost jump out of his skin. She stamped her foot down and yelled out, rattling the room, "_FUCKING SHUT UP_!"

The room fell silent at once, and Arthur near gaped at the woman. Her fists were clenched, her shoulders hunched, and at that moment, he could have likened her to a bull that was about to charge. A moment later, she returned to her original posture and smile.

"Now then!" Her cheerful tone of voice was back, too. "As you can see, we have a new member of our class." She gave Arthur a light pat on the back. "Go ahead, hun. Introduce yourself."

Arthur cleared his throat, and scanned the room, looking at each student for no longer than a few seconds. "_Ahem_. I'm..." Oh, this was awkward. "Arthur. Or, er. England, I suppose, if you prefer."

A few of the students began leaning in towards each other and muttering again, which didn't help particularly.

The teacher gave a nervous laugh, "Oh... Oh! England? I... See! W-Well!" She clapped her hands together again. "You can call me Hungary. There's no seating plan so go and sit down where you like!"

He didn't quite get what had unnerved her, and he wanted to ask, but deciding that since everyone's eyes were on him, he'd simply shake it off and shuffle to a free space at one of the back counters. It seemed that next to where each stool pulled under the counters, there was an oven, and at the end of each row was a sink. Each counter had three seats, and Arthur had to take the free spot on a counter already occupied by two girls. Both of them eyed him cautiously, but said nothing.

"Alright, guys! Textbooks out!" Hungary called across the class, taking a seat behind the front desk. "The pastry from yesterday's still not defrosted yet, so I want you to complete the diagram on page forty."

It was when the lesson was drawing to a close, after having been given a spare piece of pastry to work with, that Arthur realised exactly why they'd all acted so nervous; and why Francis had overdramatically despaired at the beginning of class. Hungary had instructed them to make an apple pie, following a recipe in the textbook.

"Perfect as always, France." She'd said to Francis, whilst examining the finished products. She stepped up and down the counters, looking each pie over carefully.

"_Merci, mademoiselle._" He had grinned, rather egotistically.

She had then moved on to the brunet next to Francis. "You too, Spain." She seemed a little happier to be praising this student.

Arthur leaned over to try to see what their pies looked like. He could just see the side of Francis's, which looked perfectly golden brown, very slightly still steaming. He then glanced down at his own, blackened block of a pie, feeling a mix of aggravation and jealously. He couldn't fathom as to how he'd have messed up such a simple recipe! He'd used the exact oven temperature as he'd been instructed to, and he'd left the pie in for the same time everyone else had... So how had _his_ burnt to a crisp, whereas no one else's had?

"O-Oh." Hungary had half-smiled, when she'd reached him last. She moved her hand out and tapped the pie with the tips of her knuckles. It sounded as if she was knocking on solid wood. "Oh dear. Well! Practise makes perfect! I'm sure you'll do better next time!" She didn't sound sure at all.

There was a short break after second period. Arthur dragged his feet out of the class, following everyone else out. He couldn't understand; he'd lived alone for a year and he'd always thought his cooking was good... Why had it turned out so awful in comparison to everyone else's? He was starting to get that sinking feeling he shouldn't have come to the Academy at all again... Now for a completely different reason than before.

But still, remembering that initial reason, he also recalled what Konstantin had told him earlier. He wanted to make an appointment with the Vice Principal. He decided to do that now that he had fifteen minutes of time between classes.

"Hey, Arthur." Elise had waited for him outside the classroom. "Don't get disheartened, okay? The ovens here are pretty powerful. If you've never used them before, you can get some... Bad results."

He appreciated her trying to reassure him. It didn't help much, but he still did appreciate it all the same.

"Er, Elise?" He asked, as she walked with him.

"Yeah?"

"Where can I make an appointment with the Vice Principal?"

She stared at him, her eyes widened, as if he'd told her something shocking. But when he glanced over at her in question, she seemed to shake it off. "Who told you to do that?"

"Um... That Kosta bloke." Arthur hoped she knew who he was talking about. Konstantin had said everyone called him 'Kosta' anyway, right?

Elise tilted her head slightly. "Oh, right... Why?" She furrowed her brow a bit, and Arthur felt again like perhaps he shouldn't have brought the topic up. "What did you ask for him to tell you that?" Somehow, it seemed like she knew the answer already.

"...I erm... Well... I enquired about... 'Crossing over'." He answered, feeling like she was going to get angry with him at any point right then. "And he told me to make an appointment with the Vice Principal for me to get the answers I wanted."

"Oh... I see." She replied, her head shaking again a bit. "You need to ask at the front desk, where we went yesterday. Want me to go with you?"

"Umm... No, I think I'll be alright, thanks." He'd go straight to the front desk, then. That seemed easy enough.

They stepped outside into the warm, mid-morning air. Elise walked with him to the front buildings, heading to the girls' dorm building herself. From there, he proceeded to the foyer, approaching the desk as he had done yesterday. Students were more sparse that break time than they had been the previous evening at the desk, and Arthur wasn't queuing for long until the dark-haired lady, again dressed in a toga, called him forward.

"Can I help you?" She asked, pleasantly.

"Ah. Yes, I need to make an appointment with the Vice Principal." He told her, after having stepped up to the desk.

She paused to look at him for a good long moment, before nodding. "Of course, dear. May I have your delegate name?" She lifted the phone on her desk and held the receiver by the side of her face, pressing one of the buttons.

"England."

She waited for a short while before getting an answer. "Good morning, Valdus. England wishes to make an appointment with you." She waited again, nodding a bit. "Alright, thank you." She placed the receiver down, and turned back to Arthur. "You can go straight up. He'll see you after the next student."

Arthur almost moved away from the desk, but he then thought to ask, "Where should I go?"

"Upstairs, dear. Up this staircase above me." The lady motioned upwards. "You'll see a long hallway. If you take the first left, there's a seating area just down there. He'll call you in when he's ready."

He thanked her, before walking around the desk to the large staircase. It wound around to a balcony area, as he saw when he made his way up the stairs, which then lead on to a hallway. Arthur wandered down it, his hands in his trouser pockets, his eyes glancing across the several hangings on the walls. Some were portraits, apparently of UN secretary generals; some were beautifully detailed landscape paintings, of picturesque beaches, of countryside, and one of vast, white buildings that looked very familiar... Arthur didn't stop to appreciate any of the paintings, but he realised as soon as he walked past it, that picture had been of the school from the north side.

He didn't question the wall hangings, though. They made enough sense. What he did question, however, was how the décor seemed to stop completely as he reached the left turn the lady at the desk had told him to take. What had seemed like a plain, yet neatly decorated foyer seemed to be almost like a different building; like he'd stepped out of the school and into a different place entirely. The walls were still plain white, and so was the floor, but the latter was now set in bleached tiles rather than the exquisite marble that donned the foyer. It made the area look like the corridor of a hospital... And Arthur was, dare he say it, getting that kind of a feel from it.

The corridor opened onto, as he had been told, a seating area. There were three doors, one on each of the other walls; all shut. However, Arthur was not alone there. On one of the plush couch-like seats, a tall, gruff looking student with spiky dark blond hair was already seated, his legs crossed and his posture comfortable. Despite wearing the male uniform, he noticeably was also wearing a long blue and white striped scarf around his neck. He peered sidelong at Arthur, but then looked away again, neither doing nor saying anything. There were two couches backing on to each other, and so Arthur took a seat in the one that was empty. The door opposite him had a pane of frosted glass, on which was printed in bold lettering **'VICE PRINCIPAL'**. At least he was in the right place, then. Though, glancing around, and seeing that the other two doors were solid white wood and unmarked, he wondered what the purpose of those rooms were.

The door of the room opposite Arthur opened with a click of the handle, and out walked what Arthur almost thought was too ridiculous for him to believe. A large, well built middle-aged man with long, blond hair, braided at the front, walked out, dressed in (and, Arthur had to do a double-take to make sure he'd seen it right) a full set of worn armour of goldish-green and black. He had thin eyes and pale skin, and Arthur – dare he say it – thought he looked even more intimidating than Mongolia... So... _This _was the Vice Principal? He looked like he'd just walked off the set of Lord of the Rings... Arthur hadn't expected that at all... Then again, this school was just _full_ of surprises, it seemed.

The man took several easy strides across the room, his eyes on the other student. His armour clanked against the white tiles as he did so. "Netherlands." He said, his voice low. Arthur didn't turn around, but he heard the other student rise from his seat behind him. There was another click of a handle, and Arthur assumed that the door on the other side of the room was opened. After a few more armoured, and normal, footsteps resounded, the door behind him shut again. Only then did Arthur look over at the unmarked door.

He didn't know whether his curiosity was strong enough for him to want to know what was on the other side of that door. Even so, he felt that whatever was back there was... Off-putting. He couldn't really think of any other word to describe it. He then remembered Elise's reaction to him wanting to come here; how shocked she had looked at first... Just what was going on? Konstantin had said that the Vice Principal oversaw the crossing over process... Was it something to do with that? He just didn't know any more...

There were no clocks in the waiting area, but he estimated it must have been around ten minutes before the door opened again. Again, he didn't turn his head to look, but he did see the spiky-haired student (what had the man called him, Netherlands?) walking off down the corridor in the corner of his eye.

"England." After a few more clunky steps were heard, the blond man was now stood at Arthur's side.

It was slightly chilling, to have to look up at the man, especially from a position sitting down. He had such a stern expression; his brow creased into what seemed like a permanent line, his lips etched into a cold frown. Arthur couldn't help but flinch a little when he did glance upwards.

"Y-Yes, erm... Sir?"

"Come."

Arthur got out of his seat and followed the man into his office. Were he perfectly honest, he expected stepping into the room to be like stepping into yet another building, as he had felt had happened when walking between the hallways earlier. But instead, the interior wasn't as zany as he had imagined... Well, not _quite _on the level his mind had conjured up before entering. There were old – very old, _ancient_, in fact – scrolls lining the walls, and above the Vice Principal's seat, two antique swords, crossed over and attached to an ornate tablet.

"Sit." The man instructed Arthur, whilst moving to his own seat behind the desk.

He did as he was told, his eyes falling on the desk. There was little on there, apart from books and papers and an old-looking phone. A plaque in the middle of the desk, facing Arthur, read on the top row; **'Vice Principal Germania'**, and beneath it, **'Valdus Beilschmidt'**.

Germania... Was that still a country? Surely not... Arthur didn't have time to be confused though.

"What is it that you want?" The man asked him, staring with intent across the desk to him.

"Oh... Erm..." He could feel the Vice Principal's dark blue eyes burning into him like hot coals, and for a moment, he almost forgot – under the pressure – what he was there to do. "Yes, I... Was told to ask you about... Crossing over?"

The man's lips twitched into more of a frown, which Arthur hadn't thought was possible. "You are not of age to cross over."

"I... N-No, I'm aware of that; I don't want to cross over." Arthur wasn't sure if that would have come across as 'I don't want to cross over right now' or 'I don't want to cross over at all'. "I'd... Like it if it could be explained to me, however. I came here thinking this was just a school for the gifted... But, a few of the other students have told me otherwise."

The Vice Principal gave a very slight nod, looking annoyed. "I see. You are new here... Yes. Were the Principal in residence for your arrival, everything would have been explained to you."

That made sense, in a way. His arrival to the school had seemed abrupt, as if his welcome had been arranged at the last minute.

"How much are you aware of already?" The man asked.

Arthur had to think quite hard to answer that. "...I know that there is a training facility of sorts in the south, where students go when they cross over, or... 'Progressively Graduate'." He frowned a little himself, not happy about having to speak about something he thought was so... _Cruel_, among other things. "If they do not, they either have to live permanently in the town, or stay on at the school in a teaching role..." Bitterness seeped into his vocal tone. "...Either way, they are trapped here, and can't return home."

The Vice Principal nodded once again, his stare well and truly fixed on Arthur. "Then you are aware of most of the details."

"But...!" Arthur nearly cried out, but calmed himself down as best he could. His fingers began to dig into and clench the fabric of his trousers. "Why? That's what I don't understand! Why... Why is this happening!? Why are we being made into soldiers!? It's unethical! It's... _Bloody inhumane_!" The more he had to think about it to get the words out, the more angered he became. He hadn't thought he'd get so upset over it... His eyes were burning, his hands were shaking, and he was beginning to bite down hard on the inside of his lip.

The man said nothing for a while after that. He and Arthur stared across the desk at each other, until Arthur eventually lowered his gaze away.

"Each and every delegate here is one of a genius mind." Arthur didn't look back up, but he could hear the Vice Principal getting out of his seat and clanking over to the window nearby in his armour. "A genius mind that outdoes anything on a human scale already... A mind that is strong enough for the capacity required to undertake crossing over. Asides from being in possession of these minds, those we select are mostly alone in the world. They may have lost parents, they may have no family at all... They may have no where to go. We offer them a place where they can be among others like them. Where they can fit it; where they can _belong_."

Just then, the words that Francis had told Arthur the previous day came crashing back.

"Before we bring the delegates here, we make sure none of them have a home to return to... We make the Academy their home. For precaution, to keep the secret island-bound, if they do not cross over, they must stay either at school, or in the town."

It sounded just as unbelievable coming from the Vice Principal as it had done coming from Elise and Francis. Arthur shook his head, sighing in dejection. Again, he was left not knowing how to feel.

"But... _Why_?"

"After crossing over, students are trained to become United Nations peacekeeping soldiers of a near-invincible standard. A human mind would not be able to comprehend the weight of the training."

So, the soldiers were produced for United Nations peacekeeping missions? Arthur really didn't know what to think any more, or how to feel. But even after that had been clarified, he still couldn't understand _why_. Sure, he had been alone in London, and yes, he didn't feel like he really had a home to go back to... But still, simply the sheer thought that he couldn't go back... It was an awful feeling.

"Is there anything else?"

Arthur glanced upwards, towards where the Vice Principal stood staring out of the window. His head was beginning to ache; everything once again starting to feel like a mad dream.

"No. No, thank you..." He murmured, getting up and heading for the door. "That's all."

He wished he could have lashed out at the man. He wished he could have poured out all his anger and sorrow on the matter. He wished he could have flipped the desk and knocked over the cupboards and smashed the pane in the door... But... He knew none of that would solve anything. Unless he chose to cross over, he was stuck on that island, and there was nothing – right now – that he could do about it.

Arthur saw himself out of the Vice Principal's office, shutting the door behind him. He dragged his feet across the campus to World History class, then, only to find he was about ten minutes late.

The teacher that had broken up the fight the previous day was at the front of the class, and he stopped in mid-sentence when Arthur entered, staring at him; the rest of the class following suit and glancing over their shoulders.

"You late, aru." He said.

"Erm... Sorry, I had to talk to the Vice Principal." Arthur replied, not liking having the rest of the class looking at him, as had happened in the Cookery class.

"Ah. Okay then. You come get textbook from pile and then take seat."

He did as he was told, again finding a spare place at the back of the room and settling down with the textbook to do work... However, the appointment with the Vice Principal still weighed heavy on his mind, and despite his efforts, he didn't think he could focus...

...He didn't think he was going to be able to focus for the rest of his time at the Academy.

* * *

Notes:

Pretty sure I've nothing to add for this chapter. Alright then, thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	6. VI

A/N:

-**UsuixMisakilover: **Thanks! I can tell you chapters will get longer and updates will be slower from now on. With the earlier chapters, I just wanted to get the initial five out of the way as an introduction, so yeah, they're definitely going to be longer from now on.

-**Tanglepelt: **Thank you! I had hoped the Lord of the Rings joke wouldn't have gone unnoticed, haha!

-**JuniperGentle: **Thank you very much for your comments, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

_Please be aware that there are suggestions of m/m pairings in this chapter. Again, if you don't like it, the back button is up at the top of your screen. Otherwise, enjoy!_

* * *

_**VI.**_

He wondered, for the whole of his first week, if crossing over ever bothered any of the other students, or indeed teachers, as much as it seemed to bother him. He never questioned it, nor did he ever speak up about it again at the time, but he suspected, merely based on the way students looked or sounded blue sometimes for no apparent reason, that perhaps it did. He could have been wrong, of course... They could have been sad about anything. But being trapped in that place, knowing there was no way out but to become a soldier – no, a _weapon_ – for the United Nations' use, would have been a good enough reason to seem upset.

Arthur had Self-Study after lunch, which he spent every day in the library, trying to catch up with any work his mind had distracted him from. It seemed anti-productive, complying with an education that had an outcome he didn't believe in, but all the same, he supposed he liked the work. It was challenging, unlike the work he'd been given in his compulsory school in London, which had been far too easy for him. After Self-Study was Advanced Mathematics, which he also found quite interesting. And Elise had been right, after all. India was a nice man, as well as a very good teacher. He also liked Hungary, the Cookery teacher, although her outlashings when the class got out of hand were quite startling, and he found China to be a good teacher as well.

Mongolia, however, was still quite an oddity, in Arthur's mind. Having said that, he considered Konstantin to be his teacher in that lesson, anyway. On his second day of classes, Mongolia handed Arthur his own bow, which had been crafted by the Woodwork class, and he was able to practise with that instead of Konstantin's, which he then realised was far too big for him to use – so, it was no wonder he kept missing the target. After a few days of practising with his new bow, Arthur seemed to have gotten the hang of it... It was just frustrating that he couldn't say the same for his Cookery class.

Last period, however, was Music class. It was taken by a man who – like Hungary – hadn't seemed too much older than the students. His delegate name was Austria, and Arthur quite admired him from the get-go. He was a very smart-looking man, whom wore glasses, and a navy blue coat and a cravat to each class, and had his dark hair slicked back off his face. He was also a master pianist, as he made sure the class was aware of in each lesson. Arthur was used to people passing him by in the streets or the train stations where he played back in London, perhaps tossing a coin or two his way, but he'd never really been appreciated for his music before, the way Austria politely praised or critiqued him... Well, for the latter, Arthur wasn't quite as appreciative; at least, not at first. He was the type to take any negative comments to heart and get rather irritated by them.

He'd also met more students, as the days came and went. Some he found were more pleasant to be around than others, some seemed a little cautious when first approaching him, but Arthur only really found a small handful of them to be particularly disagreeable. Francis was bearable on his own. He still made a point to tease Arthur when he could, usually aiming for the subject of his eyebrows; though, the more times Arthur slipped up in Cookery class, the more frequent jokes about that came into play. But Arthur could deal with Francis on his own. It was when Francis was grouped together with his two best friends that he became a real pain. The young brunet man in their Cookery class – Spain, or as he was better known amongst students, Antonio – was cheerful and friendly on his own, but would usually chip in with the teasing when with the other two. However, of all of them, the most irritating was Gilbert. Despite being German, he liked to call himself 'The Awesome Prussia'. He was loud, obnoxious, and would goad both Francis and Antonio on. Arthur was quite relieved he didn't have any classes with him. He did, however, have two classes with Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig. Ludwig was the official delegate from Germany, however, Arthur learnt before the end of the week that the Vice Principal – Valdus Beilschmidt, Germania – was Gilbert and Ludwig's father.

Arthur hadn't known what to think about that. There were a few rare cases throughout the Academy where some of the older staff had children whom were the official delegates. He learnt that the lady in the toga whom worked the front desk was the mother of the Greek delegate, a senior student called Heracles Karpusi whom was apparently in Arthur's World History class, though he'd yet to meet him; additionally, Gupta Muhammad Hassan's – the Egyptian delegate – mother was the school's nurse. When finding this out, Arthur promptly remembered what Germania had said to him on Tuesday morning.

_'Asides from being in possession of these minds, those we select are mostly alone in the world. They may have lost parents, they may have no family at all... They may have no where to go.'_

Thinking about this made Arthur rage inside. Germania had two sons – who the _Hell_ was he to talk of children without family? Besides that, Arthur's mother was still alive. If she'd been in a position to take care of him, he wouldn't have ended up in a children's home, and consequently it would have been very unlikely that he'd have ended up in that Academy. He didn't think Germania had ever stopped to think what his sons would have been feeling had they not had a parent in such a high position at the Academy. That said, he was a very stoic man, and he probably didn't care either way... Which was all the more frustrating.

Arthur didn't speak of any more matters about the school with anyone else until much later on in the week. The weather had been beautiful the entire time, up until the sun set that Friday evening. He'd finished all his homework about half an hour after dinner, and so he'd started to read a dark witch hunt novel he'd checked out of the library after class on Thursday. Arthur was a fast and attentive reader. Though it was a thick book, he predicted he'd finish it by Monday or Tuesday at the latest. He'd been reading it in the common room, seated in a spare place next to the students from Norway and Denmark, both blond boys, but with very contrasting demeanours, whom were engaged in a game of Poker. They were gambling for a mix of blue, red and green plastic tokens, so it appeared; and Arthur wondered what they were, but thought it would be rude to interrupt their game. The delegate from Norway, whom was in the same grade as Arthur, as well as his Music class (he played the violin, to a very impressive level), and seemed to be very quiet and expressionless, was winning each time, leaving the Danish student, a senior with a heavy brow and wild, spiky hair, looking more and more devastated as the game progressed. Arthur glanced up from his novel on occasion to watch them; at the end of the game, Denmark set his cards down on the table separating them and held his head in his hands, Norway scraping his pile of winnings over.

"Hey, Artie, whatcha readin'?" Alfred had appeared at that moment, chewing on what appeared to be a toffee-centred chocolate bar.

Arthur was still unappreciative of the nickname, but after talking to him a few times in the common room, he had found Alfred to be more bearable than he initially thought.

"A novel." He replied plainly.

Alfred shoved the rest of the chocolate into his mouth and spoke again, "Wh't k'nda n'vel?"

Arthur frowned a bit. "A witch hunt novel, if you must know."

"Oh, neat!" Alfred sat down on the floor by Arthur's seat. "Can I hear some? Can I? Would you read it to me?"

Arthur stared at him. Did he actually want him to read part of the novel to him? Or was he just acting like an excitable child for the sake of it...? Then again, he had come to the conclusion acting like an excitable child was a normal trait, for Alfred.

"I suppose I could read some of it to you." Arthur's eyes scanned the opened page. He was a little way in, so he marked the page and turned to the front. "I'll start from the beginning, then."

Alfred grinned in anticipation... However, that grin didn't last very long at all. As if on cue with the start of the story, the wind outside began to howl against the dorm building.

"'Ey... Sounds like a storm." Arthur heard Denmark saying, catching sight of the student leaning back in his seat with his hands behind his head.

Arthur reeled off the first chapter of the story. The room got quieter as he did so, and he found that Norway and Denmark had actually begun to listen in at around the end of the first page; although there was still muttering from the other ends of the room. It wasn't the muttering that drowned out Arthur's voice, though. It was the windows clattering in their panes, and the rain thundering against the glass like bullets. He was quite used to this kind of weather; he had lived in a flat in London, after all, but even this surprised him.

"...And Marie's eyes fell onto the twisted body in front of her, and she screamed; screamed at the very top of her lungs, for the fingers of the corpse were clawing at the stone beneath it, its nails scraping and its near-hairless head creaking around to face her, its eyes blackened and its yellowing skin peeling from its bones." He continued to read from the novel, his eyes glancing back up at the rain-soaked windows as the wind whooshed past again. "She ran. Marie ran as fast as her legs would carry her, but the graveyard was so vast; an intricate maze of tombs and headstones, that every time she took a turn, she found naught but dead ends. The corpse was following her, though, its bones clanking, its limbs crawling across the damp, leaf-littered ground. It was breathing, and Marie thought it was just her heart pounding in her head but _no_, what she heard was the corpse breathing, and when she turned to face it, its gruesome, hollow face with its body on all fours, its voice spat out the most hellish, venomous words she had ever heard..."

The windows clunked again, and the whole building seemed to shift a little in the powerful wind.

"...'You're next'-"

Lightning flashed blindingly outside.

"_UAAAAAH_!" Alfred near screeched, attaching himself to Arthur's leg. "DUDE, THAT'S SO TOTALLY SCARY STOP READING YOU'RE FREAKING ME OUT!"

Arthur looked down over his book at him, unappreciative of being clung to. "Wh-What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!? Get off me! It's not that scary at all, you pansy!"

"NO DUDE SERIOUSLY THAT'S THE SCARIEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD I HATE TALKING CORPSES _AAAHH_!"

Alfred's grip was like iron, despite Arthur's attempts to shake him off. Denmark, having still been watching them, laughed.

"_Hej_. Pretty funny story, man. What's it called?"

It took Arthur a few moments to realise he was directing the question at him. By the time he looked up, Norway had answered.

"'The Witches of Blackheart Tomb'. I've read it." He sounded quite nonchalant in his answer.

"Oh." Arthur decided to at least say, in acknowledgement of them speaking to him.

"Wha?" Denmark piqued up again, glancing at his companion. "I don't remember you readin' that."

"You can barely remember what happened five minutes ago." Norway's eyes slid back over to the older student, his vocal tone becoming more scathing now. "Besides, I didn't read it here. I read it when I was twelve."

Denmark hung his head in dejection, and Arthur heard him mutter something along the lines of 'you're so mean, Lukey'. As if Norway had known Arthur had heard that, the bleak-eyed student turned back on the couch towards him.

"Lukas Bondevik." He offered him his hand.

"Erm." Arthur's eyes slid back to Alfred, who was shivering and mewling and wouldn't let go of his leg at all. He felt strange having to shake hands with someone with Alfred stuck to him like that, but he did it anyway. "Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

To his surprise, Denmark rose out of his seat to shake his hand, too. Once he'd stood up, Arthur could see he was quite tall and muscular, in comparison to Norway, at least. His grasp on Arthur's hand when they shook was much firmer, too. He also gave him a friendly, albeit lopsided grin upon doing so. "_Hej_, man. Søren Andersen. You've been here a few days, right? S'weird we haven't talked yet."

There were quite a few students Arthur knew the delegate names of, but indeed hadn't talked with yet. "I suppose so." He said, his eyes falling back onto the counters on the table. Now that he was in a conversation with them, he thought he'd ask about them. "Erm, if you don't mind me asking, why are you gambling with... _Those_?"

"Allowance chips?" Søren asked, returning to his seat and picking one up as an example. Lukas promptly slapped it out of his hand. "_Owch_!"

"Don't touch my winnings." The Norwegian glowered at his companion, scooping up the counters with his hands and placing them into his trouser pockets. He then looked over at Arthur. "You probably haven't been told. Allowance chips are the currency used by Pangaea, this island."

That made enough sense; Arthur supposed. He did wonder why he hadn't been informed, then he vaguely remembered reading about something like that in the rules list he'd found on his bed on the first day.

"Mh. Yeah." Søren rubbed at his hand, frowning. "You probably didn't get any yet, though. There's nowhere to spend 'em in the school, and we're only allowed out to go to the town on weekends." He seemed to pause for a moment, as if his mind had gone blank. "Errr... Oh, yeah, but we're in a lockdown at the moment 'cause of-"

Lukas glanced between Arthur and Søren, then interrupted. "Søren. Don't talk about that right now."

"_Hwha_? Why?" The Dane blinked at his companion.

Lukas lowered his voice to a half-hiss, half-whisper. "_You know why_."

Arthur was left confused. He was about to ask what they were talking about, but then a very, very loud crash of thunder resounded outside. Everyone in the room seemed to pause for that second; Alfred gripping tighter around Arthur's leg on instinct, though he was still whining about the story, rather than the storm.

Søren made a rolling nod of the head, and opened his mouth as if to say '_oh_'. "Yeah, right. Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway, you'll probably get about fifteen dollar's worth of chips once the lockdown's over. We usually get fifteen each at the start of each month." He told Arthur, whom was continuing to wonder what this 'lockdown' thing was about.

"Erm... Right." Arthur managed to say. "When do you suppose that will be?"

Lukas shrugged. "We don't know. Until then, though, if you want things like candy or soda, the cafeteria have them."

Arthur didn't particularly want either of those, but he guessed that made sense. He hadn't seen any vending machines around, and in a period of lockdown – if it was indeed what he thought it was – he couldn't have imagined Alfred being particularly good at rationing. Again, he glanced down at the American, latched all the while to his leg. "I see."

"Yeah, they're intended for things like toiletries and notebooks, y'know, stuff you actually _need_, but you always end up with plenty of spare change." Søren went on to say.

"Well. _You_ don't." Lukas added, and Arthur could have sworn he sounded amused, despite his poker face.

Søren's face dropped again, but then he grinned at his friend. "You'll just have to buy everything I need then, Lukey!"

"Don't call me that." The Norwegian glared at him again.

"Why not? Lukeyyy! _Luuuuuukey_!"

There was a flash of lightning and a near-deafening bang of thunder then, but Arthur could have sworn Lukas told Søren at that moment, very brusquely, despite his plain expression, "_I will cut you_."

Arthur glanced out of one of the windows. The storm seemed to be right overhead, judging by its intensity, and the fact that there was no period of time between the lightning and thunder. Lukas turned away from his friend and did the same.

"Hmn... It'll pass soon." He muttered.

"_Hej_, you guys should play Bridge with us." Søren said, leaning back forward in his seat and collecting all the playing cards together. "Al!" He called over to the American koala boy. "Al, c'mon, get off Arthur's leg and play with us!"

Arthur was a little disappointed that he didn't get to continue his novel; all the same, he enjoyed the card game. He wasn't used to playing with cards, especially not on this level and against others. He and Alfred, once he'd pried him off his leg, pulled some now vacant armchairs over to the table. They played in a pair against Lukas and Søren, who – for lack of a better phrase – kicked their arses for the first few rounds. Lukas in particular was an excellent player. After perhaps an hour spent auctioning and bidding (amongst many other terms Arthur only came to understand in full after having played a couple of times), their game became the centre of attention in the common room, the other students forming a ring around their seats, a few of them quietly muttering between themselves. Unsurprisingly, Lukas and Søren won (1), in the end. It left Søren pumping his fist in the air in victory, chanting _'Ja! Ja! Ja!'_, and Alfred slumping his shoulders in defeat. The crowd then dispersed, everyone returning to their previous activities.

"Aw man, no fair! This game stinks!" Alfred moaned. Even if their side had lost, Arthur was at least glad it had taken Alfred's mind off the novel extract he'd read to him.

"Better luck next time." Lukas said, though he didn't sound too supportive. A glint in his eye showed that he was pretty happy about winning.

By the time they'd finished, the rain subsided. It was still dark outside, but as it was the evening time, that was to be expected. Søren stretched in his seat.

"Ah, great, I guess the storm won't be keepin' me up all night, then!" He grinned, before lifting his arm to jab Lukas gently in the shoulder with his fist. "Well. Not unless _you _do."

Arthur had only been half listening to Søren, but he tuned in at the last minute. He saw Lukas turn towards the Dane with the most expression Arthur had seen of him, despite the fact he only caught it for a split second; and it was a frown. In a flash, Lukas smacked Søren's fist away with his hand.

"Watch what you say, and where you say it." He told him.

"O-Oww...!" Søren pouted, slumping in dejection like Alfred had just done after losing.

Did Søren mean what Arthur thought he meant, by that? He paused to think. Of course, he didn't ask; it would be impolite to pry. But, given that it was _clearly _none of his business, he quickly put it out of his mind.

"Hey, er. Good game, anyway, guys. Let's play again soon, yeah?" Søren began to grin again.

Arthur gave him a nod. "Of course."

Lukas began to collect the cards together. Alfred and Arthur got up to move the armchairs back where they'd found them, when the common room doors opened, and China entered the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing, and turned their heads to look at him, though he cleared his throat thereafter to make sure he had everyone's attention.

"You all listening? Good. Vice Principal Germania give message to say lockdown over, starting from tomorrow." He folded his arms into his long sleeves over his chest. "Any questions?" His eyes began to scan the room.

Above the silence, Søren moved over to Arthur and gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, which took him by surprise. "Yeah, England needs allowance!"

"That not question, Denmark." A small frown twitched at China's mouth. "But okay. He get allowance tomorrow morning." He went back to looking around. "No one else?"

Arthur didn't know whether to appreciate Søren bringing it up, or to be irritated with him for saying so over the silence of the room. He frowned anyway. No one else spoke up, and so China nodded.

"Good. You all stay inside dorm building tonight. No sneaking over to girls' dorms after lights out. You know that it against rules anyway, but ground outside is slippy after storm. You run over in dark, you break your leg, it your own fault, aru. I no want repeat of last time, America."

Alfred groaned, and shook his head. "Do you _have_ to keep bringin' it up?"

"I just making sure you learnt lesson, aru."

Arthur didn't think he even wanted to know what had gone on there. China left, and he glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was still a little too early for bed, so he decided to take his book and go read in his dorm; overhearing the other students beginning to talk about making plans for the weekend, now that the 'lockdown' was over.

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred called to him, just as he reached the doors. "You'll come out tomorrow, right?" He grinned expectantly.

Arthur had hoped he'd have the day to himself to read, or perhaps study a little more... But, looking at Alfred with such a happy look on his face, he found that he simply couldn't give him a flat-out no.

"Alright, I'll see." He gave him an acknowledging nod. "Goodnight, Alfred."

"Night then, Artie!"

The door swung shut behind him, and he walked onwards to the staircase.

* * *

There was a storm brewing. The air over the running track had been thick, and Konstantin had seen clouds forming on the horizon. Since the new term in September, he'd been training every day he had free out there after school. He'd realised that it wasn't his accuracy that needed improving. No, in fact, his accuracy was superior to Jovan's. No one else in the school could hit a bullseye from thirty yards away. Even those at the top of the Shooting class couldn't do that. Had he not chosen to cross over, Konstantin was pretty sure he'd easily replace Mongolia as the Archery teacher. Then again, Mongolia didn't seem to want to budge out of the role any time soon. He supposed there was little point in his talent going to waste, anyway – as egotistical as it sounded in his head.

Oh, that wasn't to say Jovan wasn't accurate. No, his speed couldn't better Konstantin alone. But he was fast, accurate, strong... And even taking those factors away, he had been playing tennis for longer than Konstantin, and even before he'd decided it was time to begin the crossing over process, was always going to be better.

But he wasn't going to let that stop him. Konstantin didn't care if Jovan wasn't going to roll over and let him win – he'd find a way to beat him. _Somehow_. _'Give it up, Kosta'_, they'd said, _'You'll never win against him'_. Giving up wasn't an option any more. He'd been at it nearly four years. He'd come so close so many times... He was so close now, he swore that he could taste it. Only then, only _then _could he let Jovan cross over... And only then could he, himself, go too.

Jovan's birthday fell on December 10th (2), which was St. Nicholas's day, by the Orthodox church. He'd once told Konstantin his birth name had been Nikola Djurdjuvić, but he had been orphaned after birth and his adoptive family, the Mladićs, already had a son called Nikola, hence they changed his name to Jovan. This was the extent Konstantin knew of his rival's background. Jovan talked a lot – _boy_, did he _ever _talk a lot, but he never really said much at all about himself. Then again, almost everyone at the Academy had a past of some description, and so, it was a hushed topic. Unless you were very close with someone there, you might never know what had happened to them in their childhood. The date that Friday was November 23rd. In roughly three weeks, Jovan would turn 19, and have no choice but to cross over... Konstantin had to beat him by then, whatever the hell it took.

Jovan had become so fast since he'd chosen to cross over that Konstantin's best bet was to match him in speed. He ran track until he was either told by one of the teachers – India or China, most days – to come inside the dorm buildings. Or until he got hungry and had to retire to the cafeteria for dinner. Or unless he had to cut his training short, to make time for homework and such. Or, like that Friday evening, the weather turned bad and he had no choice but to come inside.

He guessed he could at least start that poetry essay he was due to hand in the following Monday. Maybe having to think about why some long-dead guy decided to write about a particular type of flower and then scribble out five-hundred words of interpretation would take his mind off Jovan for a while... He doubted it, but _maybe _it would.

The rain managed to catch him just as he jogged up to the quad. And when it rained on Pangaea, it _poured_. From the deep grey colour of the clouds, he could definitely tell it was going to be a storm. His gym kit was soaked, once he'd managed to get indoors; his hair dripping from the tips. He went to his room and, finding the door locked, presumed Aurel wasn't inside... That wouldn't be the case for long, though.

Konstantin went to his night stand and opened the drawer, taking out a small red case he'd hidden in there. It had a four-digit lock on it, anyway, so even if Aurel was dumb enough to go rummaging through his things and happened to find the case, he wouldn't be able to open it. Konstantin took the case to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He placed the case down on the sink and only then did he peel his wet shirt off over his head. He was glad that both the dorm building corridors and the room itself had been empty, because a white shirt and rain wasn't a good mix for trying to keep something secret underneath. Thankfully no one had seen.

At the top of Konstantin's left arm, just beneath his shoulder, was a 'device'. From a distance, it may have looked like a strange tattoo – and in a way, that was what it was – but upon closer inspection, it became clear that it was a small, black metal mechanism, grafted onto the skin. But no one would ever suspect that it was a tattoo or anything... Anyone who chose to cross over was given one, and they were sworn to secrecy about them. Nobody apart from Vice Principal Germania even remembered the correct name for them, so amongst those getting ready to cross over, they referred to them simply as 'devices'. At the bottom of the device, underneath the central opening, was a small gauge. Konstantin had to turn his arm towards the mirror over the sink to examine it closely. It was at red; which wasn't an imminent problem, since it was the evening and the chances of him doing anything that involved physical activity would be slim, until the morning, at least. But even so, Aurel was out of the dorm then – despite the storm outside (Konstantin could now hear lashings of rain and the first clapping of thunder). That meant less chance of being questioned... That, and he could sleep off the initial pain.

He reached for the small case, and twisted in the numbers on the lock – _5, 8, 2, 0_. Upon hearing the click, he set it back down on the sink and took out two of the contents: a syringe, and a needle. He'd been nervous, the first time he'd done this on his own. It had seemed so easy for the Vice Principal, then again, he had prepared injections several times over. This was the fourth time Konstantin had done it since receiving the kit in September, however, and he'd gotten used to it by now...

...Used to everything but the pain, anyway.

There were three capsules left of the pinkish-orange drug – _Evofloxi Obucinsus_; or so it was labelled. True to the fashion of the students not caring too much about the technical name for things, it was simply called 'the drug', by those who knew about it. One or two more would last him until Jovan crossed over. They usually lasted for a month or so at a time, but the more a user exerted themselves physically, the faster it drained. The gauge would mark how much of the drug was left present in the bloodstream.

Everyone had thought Jovan had somehow crossed the line between human and superhuman, when he started to become a blur during tennis matches; when he had become so strong his hits would burn regular tennis balls to a crisp during play. They thought it was _natural –_ hell, even Konstantin had thought it was natural, until he decided at the beginning of term to cross over after Jovan. The drug was an enhancer. It increased the strength, the speed, the agility and the endurance of a user. It was what made them 'superhuman'; and it was what would in the end make them soldiers... In quantities much greater than a simple capsule full, or so he had been told.

He fixed the drug into place at the end of the syringe, and drew in a deep breath, before moving his arm to face the mirror again. It was easier to guide it in, that way. He lifted the syringe and locked it on to the device. Once that was done, he took his hand away, and clenched his fingers around the sides of the sink bowl. The device did the rest itself; first the needle dug into his skin, which made him flinch, but only when the device pushed the syringe down did the real pain come. It didn't just hurt his arm; it spread through his body starting from the spot where the device was, like the entire drug itself had crawled its way very quickly into his bloodstream. He hissed, gritting his teeth; but kept as quiet as he could... Not only could he hear the storm, he could hear his heart beating loudly in his head, and he shut his eyes, exhaling with a shake. His body still wasn't quite used to the drug... He didn't think his body ever _would _be used to the drug, and that did worry him about crossing over, more than anything else.

He shivered again, withdrawing the empty injection from his arm. He took it apart, cleaned the needle in the sink, and finally shut the case. Only then did he realise he was still dripping wet from the rain. He rubbed at his hair with a towel and unlocked the bathroom door. To his surprise – and misfortune – however, he was no longer alone in the dorm.

He hadn't heard the door open, but that was understandable; he'd been preoccupied, and the storm had been clattering about anyway. But looking over at his bed, he saw a quivering lump beneath the sheets. A quivering lump that could only have been Aurel.

Konstantin was still shirtless, his device in full view. He also had his case in hand, so if Aurel had not been beneath the sheets, he'd have questioned both. Well, he'd have questioned the device, anyway. Konstantin stepped as quietly as he could across the room to his night stand, opening the draw very carefully and placing the drug kit inside. After closing it with just as much caution, he moved over to his wardrobe, and dressed for bed, making sure to pick out a shirt long enough to cover his arms.

"Aurel?" He eventually asked, sitting down on his bed and putting his hand on the lump, which promptly shook in response.

"K-Kosta?" Came the muffled reply.

Konstantin noticed that the room was darkened. Aurel hadn't shut the curtains or turned on any of the lights; he'd probably just dived under Konstantin's bedsheets as soon as he'd come in. He got up to do close the curtains himself, as fast as he could now, with the pain of the injection still apparent. When he returned, switching on his bedside lamp, he found that Aurel had poked his head out from under the sheets a little, frowning.

"What will you do when I cross over?" Konstantin asked, offering him a weak smile.

"I-I... Well..." Aurel began, pouting. "I won't be getting a new roommate, will I? They said there weren't going to be any new delegates after the new England. B-Besides. Your bed will be empty, in that case... And it will still..." He lowered his head, and Konstantin could see from that angle how much he was actually shaking. "...It will still... Have your scent."

Konstantin laughed lightly. "You can't be sure they're shutting down the program. They said no more delegates right now. That doesn't mean forever."

"Kosta, _shut up_." Aurel hissed, burying his head in the mattress. "You're not helping."

There was a flash of lightning outside, and a roll of thunder followed. Aurel's fingers clenched in the sheets, and he gave a rather unmasculine squeak, ducking his head back under. Konstantin glanced towards the window for a moment, and then lay down on the side of the bed.

"Can I come under?" He asked, not sure why he had to ask at all to get into his own bed.

"Y...Yes..." Muttered the lump.

Konstantin pulled back the covers and slid his legs underneath. Immediately, Aurel's arms clung onto the fabric of his shirt, which startled him. He was cautious about Aurel discovering the device attached to his arm... Though he figured that if he lay on his left arm, the device would be sandwiched between him and the mattress. But before that, upon realising Aurel was still wearing the little top hat that seemed to be permanently glued to his head, he took the article of clothing off the shivering boy and placed it down on the night stand. Before turning back, he switched off the lamp. The room fell dark, and Konstantin could only see the outline of Aurel's head, burying into his chest.

He understood why Aurel got upset during storms. Pangaea's location meant that it was prone to the occasional tropical storm. Konstantin never thought much of them, until Aurel became his room mate. The first night it had happened when they were sharing a room, Konstantin had heard the same kind of whimpers from the other bed as he was hearing now. He'd been worried that something might have been wrong with Aurel at first; he'd thought perhaps he'd become ill somehow and the whimpers were from him having difficulty breathing... It hadn't even crossed his mind that it had been anything to do with the storm. When he'd gotten out of bed and gone to ask what was wrong with his roommate, Aurel had sobbed and latched himself to his arm, and wouldn't let go. He had begged and pleaded for Konstantin to stay with him... And so, he did. When the morning came, and Aurel had calmed down and gone back to being his old self (mostly), Konstantin found out exactly why the Romanian boy got so frightened during storms. _'Mama and Tata... They died in a car crash, during a stormy night'_. It was perfectly understandable. Hardly any of the students at the Academy had parents, or any family, really, that were still alive. However, Konstantin supposed it was much different for someone to lose parents when they were old enough to know them, like Aurel had been. Konstantin's parents had died shortly after he was born; in a situation he had never quite believed, himself. But the fact that he couldn't remember them meant he never really felt as much sorrow for their deaths. Children in situations like Aurel's had it far worse, he thought.

Since that night, Aurel had wanted to sleep with Konstantin in his bed every time there was a storm. Konstantin didn't mind... In fact, it was a little bothersome when he thought about it for a day or so afterwards, because he didn't know exactly _why _he didn't mind. He came to realise certain roommates slept together in the _other _sense; as in, doing much more than just _sleeping_, to override one of the rules of the Academy – no sexual relationships allowed. What happened between two roommates behind a locked door, however, was none of the staff's business. The other students who found out about these relationships one way or another did tend to respect the matter and keep it hushed, and Konstantin was pretty sure some of the staff would pretend they didn't see or hear anything, either. He just hoped people didn't think that was the case with him and Aurel, as it wasn't.

That said, he didn't really know how he felt about Aurel, or indeed how Aurel felt about him. The topic had never come up between them; they had never discussed it, and Konstantin had never said anything about it to anyone else. Besides, he'd had a girlfriend in his time at the Academy, so he was sure he liked girls either way. It was just that any onlooker who saw him and Aurel embraced under the covers like that would have probably thought otherwise.

"K-Kosta?" Aurel whispered, leaning his head on the inside of Konstantin's left arm, now, which hurt quite a bit, but Konstantin didn't care.

"Yeah?"

"Sing me a song..." The thunder crashed outside again, and he mewled, shifting even closer. "A-Any song!" This was something Aurel would usually ask Konstantin to do in that situation, unless they were both too tired. "Anything to drown out the noise..."

Konstantin milled through his brain for a few moments, whilst listening to the pouring rain. He then tightened his arms around the younger student, whispering into his ear; just barely singing at all.

_'Malka moma si se Bogu moli: day mi, Boże, oczi Golwbowi, day mi, Boże, kriltsa sokolovi_

_Da si vozna otvad beli Dunav, da ci najda momcze spored mene_

_Bog i dade kriltsa sokolovi, ta si nayde momcze spored neja.'_

'A young girl is praying to god.

_"Please God give me eyes of a dove, please God give me wings of a falcon, so I can fly over the White Danube river, so I can__find a boy that suits me."_

And God gave her wings of a falcon. And she found a boy that suits her.' (3)

He'd sung that song to Aurel countless times, when he'd needed comforting like that... And each time, he wondered – yet, never asked; did Aurel actually know what the lyrics meant? Did he even know what it was about? But, as always, by the time he'd finished, the Romanian was fast asleep, his breathing soft. Konstantin lay his head down and watched him for a little longer, before dozing off, himself; a faint smile upon his lips.

* * *

A knock at the dorm room door startled Arthur – and apparently Francis – awake the next morning.

"_Ergh_... Sourcils, go answer that. It is probably for you." Francis groaned, the outline of his body shifting underneath his sheets.

"Lazy sod..." Arthur hissed at him, stepping out of bed and across the carpet. He opened the door to find China stood face-to-face with him, dressed as always in a long-sleeved silk shirt. Today's was a pale turquoise colour.

"Good morning, you sleep well?" He asked, looking up at Arthur. There was a couple of inches of height difference between them; something Arthur hadn't noticed until now.

"Um... I suppose so, yes." He couldn't complain. The weather had probably kept a few people awake, but he himself had slept just fine.

"I bring allowance for you." China presented a bulging leather pouch to Arthur from the inside of his sleeve. Arthur was beginning to think China bought his clothes at the same place Mary Poppins bought her bags... "You no spend it all at once, aru."

"I... Uh..." Arthur found the pouch being promptly placed into his hand... It was quite lighter than it looked, however. "Right. Thank you."

"Good. The school no longer in lockdown, aru. You can go out into town with friends today and tomorrow. I still want essay from you on Monday though."

"Um... Yes, of course."

Arthur said goodbye to China and shut the door. He walked back over to the bed and sat down... Alfred had asked him to come to the town that day, hadn't he? He supposed it would be rude to turn down an invite... All the same, he did need to get that essay done, and he wanted to read more of the novel, too.

Francis stirred in the other bed again. "Sourcils, what is the time?" He asked tiredly, his back to Arthur.

"You have the clock, why don't you take a look yourself?" Arthur told him, glancing up from the pouch of what he could only assume were the same kind of counters Lukas and Søren had been playing with the previous evening.

"Because I am comfortable exactly like this, and I wish to know the time." Francis said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

"I'm not your bloody slave, frog!" He spat.

To his surprise, Francis's shoulders began to shake, and after a few moments Arthur realised that he was laughing. "The old _Angleterre_, he used to say the same thing to me."

Shaking his head, Arthur got up and headed to the bathroom, his footsteps purposefully heavier than before. He didn't quite know why, but he had a strange feeling inside that told him this was going to be a long weekend...

* * *

Notes:

(1) – I've never played Bridge, but from a couple of searches online I can gather it is a four player game played in two pairs. If someone actually plays the game and knows if it's one person that wins and not a team, feel free to correct me and I'll edit it.

(2) – Like with heights and ages, I've tweaked birthdays. This is because it's incredibly infeasible that everyone who's at the Academy would just happen to have their birthday on their country's national day.

(3) – This song is called Malka Moma (literally 'little girl'), and it is a traditional Bulgarian folk song. I highly suggest looking it up on YouTube, it is a remarkable and beautiful piece of music.

Asides from that, I don't know if any of you noticed, but in accordance with the new image feature across fanfiction-dot-net, I've uploaded a cover for this story. The art was used with permission from the artist, and there is credit in my profile page.

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	7. VII

A/N:

-**Mi3staR:** Thank you very much! I won't say anything about BulRom, as you asked, but I will say that how Bulgaria is portrayed at the very moment is not how he will be portrayed ultimately throughout the whole story. He's one of my favourite characters to write next to England. I've been leaning more towards the other element of Hetalia characterisation with him, which is more how the country itself has been or has acted towards situations in history. For example, the Bulgars were pretty big on horseback archery (similarly archery was a big thing in Medieval England, hence why I decided to place England in the class as well), and Bulgarians are actually known to have great accuracy and precision in things they do... Which, I guess, can amount to a stereotype. They're also kind and open-minded, though there's the lingering interpretation that all Eastern Europeans are bitter, bull-headed and nonchalant (among other things), which is why I chose for Arthur to initially think this of him. The tennis rivalry with Serbia is more of a personal interpretation. I mused for a while even before this fanfiction was written as to why most of the big names in tennis seem to be from Eastern Europe... Noticeably more than any, Serbia. I had in my head that Serbia would be obnoxiously good at tennis (and... obnoxious in general), and that then became an element in this story during the plotting. Really I didn't intend for the sport itself to be one of Bulgaria's stronger traits, what I intended to put across was that he views Serbia as his rival and if beating him at tennis is the only thing he can really beat him at, then that's what he'd try to do. Like with Belgium, I wanted to do this first, and then introduce the quirks and traits that represent the stereotypes, rather than pile them all in at once... Basically, what I'm saying is – so far – it's not completely stereotypical, no, but by no means has his characterisation been portrayed to its entirety... Oh and look at me, going into another essay note! Hahah! I hope you enjoy the next chapter, anyway.

* * *

_**VII.**_

Before they set off for the town, Arthur had the fortune of being given an explanation of the currency – the 'Allowance chips' – by Alfred.

"So, these big red ones here, dude? They're dollars. 'cept, they don't work like real dollars. Ten of these're worth about five real dollars. Then you've got your dimes, the small green ones." Alfred held up one of each token to demonstrate. "Ten dimes makes a dollar. So that's like... Three cents, in real money. And these tiny lil' green guys, these are cents. But not _real_ cents. But yeah, ten of these makes a dime. Gottit?"

It was easy enough to figure out, seeing as how everything worked in multiples of ten. Arthur nodded, though he did wonder; "If they wanted to use dollars and dimes and cents, why didn't they just have actual American money as the currency?"

"Beats me, man. S'only like, half the worth of _real_ money anyway. Guess some big-wig workin' in the program plannin' thought it'd be a good idea, since Pangaea doesn't have an economy n'all."

The more Alfred referred to American dollars as 'real money' frustrated Arthur more each time he said it. Oh yes, American dollars certainly _were _real money, he wasn't doubting that, but Alfred seemed to disregard the fact that countries outside of the USA had their own kinds of money. This hadn't been the first time he'd acted like that, either. For a student at an Academy programmed for students whom were considered geniuses, Arthur found Alfred a bit lacking (to say the least) in his knowledge of countries that weren't the States, sometimes. However, Alfred did seem to have an interest in Arthur's home country, and did ask him questions on occasion, which either flattered Arthur... Or left him irritated to no end.

The walk to the town was longer than Arthur had thought it would be. There wasn't much chance of getting lost, though, as the path was cut clearly through the woodland; there were plenty of signs that showed the way, and just following the many groups of other students, all out of their uniforms and wearing their normal clothes (which Arthur found a little odd to see, at first), made it practically impossible to stray off course. Following last night's storm, the ground was damp in places, but as the sun was beating down again, the air pleasantly warm and the sky a perfect turquoise blue, it looked to be drying fast.

Arthur walked with Alfred most of the way. The path took several corners and was sloped, like it was winding down the very top of a large hill, but it was smooth and not a difficult walk. They managed to discuss several different topics as the time passed, and Arthur found out that Alfred was an avid fan of baseball, and even had an eight-hundred strong baseball card collection he'd been compiling since he was seven.

"Yeah, dude, I started a baseball club for after school and stuff, but then that Jovan guy said he wanted in. Which sucked 'cause we couldn't play with him hitting all the balls over the wall." He told him, looking quite upset at just having to talk about his failed club.

Despite his Archery lessons with Konstantin, Jovan hadn't crossed Arthur's mind since Tuesday. "Oh... Yes, _him_." Arthur said with a frown, sounding bitter on purpose. "That's quite a shame. Pitiful too, though, if you ask me. Wouldn't it just be awful to be... Undefeatable like that?"

"Dunno." Alfred shrugged. "Doesn't everyone wanna be the best at somethin'?"

"Well, if you're the best at something like sport, like he is, you've no competition." Arthur went on to explain, before deciding to point something else out. "Not to mention he certainly acted quite arrogant after that match on Monday. Nobody likes a bad winner."

"Nah, I get what you mean, man. No one really likes the guy at all."

Arthur was about to say something else, when he was interrupted by a familiar voice from behind them, "No one really likes who?"

He and Alfred both glanced over their shoulders to find that it was Elise asking the question. On her left was a boy Arthur recognised from his Music class, a slim platinum blonde boy from the grade below himself; the delegate of Luxembourg. He had his chin up, but even so, he was only about the same height as Elise, whom had her arm linked with his.

"We were just talkin' about Jovan." Alfred said, as if his answer didn't matter at all.

Elise frowned at him. "You shouldn't say things like that..." Her eyes shifted a bit, as she felt her companion's gaze on her, his eyebrow raised. "...Even if he _is_ a jerk."

"He's... Arrogant. Well, from what I've seen." Arthur now felt, after Elise's input, like he perhaps shouldn't have passed judgement on someone he'd never actually spoken directly to.

"Arrogant is correct." Luxembourg said. "And boorish and chauvinistic and..."

"Kristian." Elise glowered towards him.

"...Oh most certainly, when he became as fast as he is now at the end of the last school year, one would think he had every right to be full of himself..."

"Kristian!" She chided again.

But he continued nonetheless, "...But it's not like no one at the Academy has ever been that fast before-"

"_Kristian_!" Elise tugged hard on his arm, making him wince.

The four of them stopped walking, and Arthur mused over what Luxembourg had just said.

"Really? There have been others _that_ fast before?" He didn't sound quite as surprised as he maybe should have. He didn't think anything about the Academy would surprise him any more.

"Of course. Faster than Jovan, in fact. It's usually when they reach this stage that they cross over." The sophomore student appeared to be checking the nails of his free hand boredly at that moment.

"Huh, yeah, but he's been like that since... What, June?" Alfred said, his brow furrowed in apparent confusion.

Elise shrugged. "He likes the competition from Konstantin. That's why he won't cross over until he definitely has to."

"Indeed. Well, I hear he only has three weeks left. It'll certainly be much quieter around without him. I daresay I'm looking forward to it." A pompous smile etched at the edges of Kristian's face, causing Elise to glared at him.

"Kristian! That's a terrible thing to say!" She rose her voice again.

The smile didn't disappear from his face. "Ah, yes. I suppose it is. I'm very sorry, Elise."

They started to walk again, and Arthur started to put the facts together into his mind. Jovan had just started to get as fast as he was – that is to say, superhumanly fast – upon announcing that he was going to cross over? Why was that? Arthur wondered if any of the others had noticed such an odd correlation. It added to his ongoing pile of questions, but he decided to put that one to the back of his mind. There were still quite a few other things that needed to be answered first.

Upon turning the last corner, the town came into sight. The buildings were all flat-roofed and white, reflecting the sunlight, and the streets looked to be paved in a clean brick material. There were perhaps two hundred buildings, maybe more, all clustered around a beach in the distance. At the very edge of the town, where the white sand had begun to meet the surrounding forest, was the docks, the place Arthur had first arrived at when he had come to the island almost a week before.

"Race ya to the arcade!" Alfred yelled, grinning and running onwards downhill.

Arthur simply shook his head, the three of them that were left coming to a stop again.

"I have a few things I need to buy, so I'll meet with you later, Elise." Kristian said, turning to give the girl a hug and a peck on the forehead. Arthur glanced away awkwardly when he did so. "_Ä__ddi_!" He walked on past Arthur, giving them both a quick wave.

"Bye, Kristian!" Elise said brightly, waving back.

"...Bye." Arthur muttered at the last moment, deciding that ultimately it would be polite to say so.

"So, what are you doing today?" Elise asked, causing Arthur to turn back around to face her again.

"I'm not sure." He replied. "Alfred said I should spend the day in the arcade with him, but..." He glanced over his shoulder towards Alfred, now a dot against the main street running through the town.

"It's not your thing?" She finished the sentence for him.

"Not particularly, no."

She paused, when he looked back at her.

"Say, do you like ice cream?" She then asked.

"Erm." He didn't know where this was going; not at first, anyway. "I suppose so, yes."

"Okay!" She grinned, walking to his side and linking arms with him, as she had done with Kristian. "Let's go get some ice cream, then."

Arthur didn't mind walking arm-in-arm with her. This was the second time it had happened, and the first time he hadn't thought much about it, since he'd just been told about the whole crossing over at the time; he'd just amounted it to Europeans being overly affectionate. He supposed he'd do the same, this time. But as she'd been walking with Kristian previously, and he'd embraced her and kissed her forehead just before, he did wonder about their relationship... Though he then thought better about asking. It was rude to pry.

The beach front was very picturesque, and she took him into a pretty little shop overlooking the outstretch of sand before the ocean. Unfortunately the window tables were occupied by other students, so they were forced into a corner booth.

"You can have whatever you want, I'll pay." Elise slid one of the menus across the table to him. She did frown a bit after saying that, though. "Just don't ask for waffles. The ice cream's great, but the waffles are way too bland."

Arthur unfolded his menu, raising his eyebrow at her. "I can't allow you to pay for me." She kicked him lightly under the table then, causing him to flinch in surprise. "Ack-! Oi!"

"Don't pull that 'gentleman' act with me." She smiled in amusement.

He frowned. "I will pay."

"No, _you will not_." She mimicked his accent, which he might have found funny, were he not trying to get a point across to her.

A group of three students huddled around a nearby table peered over at them, then started muttering between themselves, which frustrated Arthur, as he was certain they were talking between themselves about him. Or Elise. Or both of them. He furrowed his brow and slid his gaze over at them, but Elise herself seemed non-the-wiser. That, or she was ignoring them. After a while, though, it had disappeared from Arthur's mind as well. Elise waved the waitress over and ordered them both chocolate sundaes.

"How did you come to play the guitar, by the way?" She asked, folding the menus away. "I heard Kristian say you're really good."

Arthur didn't quite believe Kristian would have said that. "What, really?"

She nodded. "Mmhm."

"Oh..." He felt his ears turning slightly pink. "Well, it's not... A very interesting story at all." He'd never really had to tell anyone before, though he supposed Elise wouldn't question much about it, given what he knew of the Academy. "I was in a children's home when I was younger, and one of the staff there thought it would be a... 'Positive output', of sorts."

Elise gave another nod. "So, it worked out well for you, huh?"

"I suppose it did."

"Are you from London, then?" She rested her elbows onto the table.

"Yes."

"Where in London?"

"Newham. It's in the north."

"I see." She smiled.

He didn't think she saw at all, but he understood that she was just making conversation, so he did the same, "Erm... What about you?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm from Antwerp. I lived with a foster family in Brussels for a while though, so I was there until I came to the Academy."

Unsure of what else to say to that, he gave her a slight nod.

"Are... Um..." She begun, the happy aura around her dropping. "Are your parents still alive? You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."

He didn't, really. But, he supposed he could give her the simplified version, out of courtesy. "They are. My mother couldn't support me financially, that's why I was taken into a children's home."

"Oh, so you knew her, then? I'm sorry..."

He shook his head, though he was unsure exactly what she was sorry about. "It's alright."

Once she'd started to smile again, they began chatting about a few of their classes. It was nice, Arthur thought, to have an actual conversation with Elise, since they'd only spoken on brief occasions since Monday evening.

"Hungary and Austria were seniors, but they didn't cross over." Elise explained, when they'd got onto the topic of Cookery. "We got a message from the training facility saying it was a shame that Hungary didn't. She was top of the Swordsmanship class before she became a teacher."

Arthur had kind of figured that, from the remarkable way Hungary would punish her students with her token frying pan, when they misbehaved. "I don't think it's all that much of a shame." He said, getting a little angry just thinking about the training facility again. "I'm sure no one wants to become what they make of you, there."

Elise frowned slightly. "It's not a question of whether we want to, or not..."

The waitress came back over and placed their drinks in front of them. They both said 'thank you' briefly, before she left again.

"Arthur." She said, looking straight across the table at him, which made him stare back awkwardly.

"...Yes?"

"I know it's hard..." She gave a slight sigh, pulling her coffee over and plopping two sugar cubes into it. "Everyone feels the same at first; angry, upset, hopeless..." She stirred at the frothy liquid. "But... It'll be okay. Just trust me."

Arthur poured a small amount of milk into his cup. "You don't sound too sure of that, yourself."

"Then what am I supposed to say?" She raised her voice, dropping her spoon onto the saucer with a clatter, which startled him. After that, she exhaled again. "...We can't spend the rest of the time we have left getting upset about what may or may not happen to us at the end of it."

He placed the milk jug back down, pausing to think. She was right, in that respect, but it didn't make the matter any less of an issue. He cleared his throat, deciding to drop the matter for now, as it was clearly going to make her upset, if he pressed it any further. "I see. Alright, then."

Arthur poured his tea and Elise sipped at her coffee. They both did so in silence, and Arthur felt a little bad about having ruined the atmosphere between them. By the time they spoke again, their sundaes had arrived, and they were almost halfway through them.

"Arthur... No one told you about the old England, did they?" She asked, lowering her voice again.

He glanced back up at her. She hadn't smiled since earlier in the conversation, and now she looked even more sombre. That aside, he was surprised that she had brought that topic up.

"Er. No... Why?"

She stared at the space of the table between them for a moment, before looking straight at him again. "Do you want to know?"

This was surprising. She'd dismissed it earlier in the week. He wondered why she was telling him now. "I... Well, I thought it wasn't your place to say."

She shook her head a bit. "I think everyone's had that mentality... But just now, I've realised something. And I think... I think you should know."

He placed his spoon in his near-empty sundae glass, and took a sip of his tea. "Go ahead, then."

Elise winced, as if explaining was going to cause her physical pain. Her voice very almost became a whisper. "Arthur... The old England was murdered."

He nearly dropped his teacup in surprise. "W-What!?"

She sighed again. "He left the south gates of the Academy at the start of the month. No one really paid much mind, he didn't have many friends. He kept to himself, mostly... He was strong, though. He was an ideal subject for crossing over... But he... He had this idea to take down the training facility from the inside..." She gave a bitter laugh. "Everyone... Everyone thought he was crazy! He said that he'd be waiting there, and when everyone crossed over, he'd lead a rebellion. But... He never even reached the training facility..."

Arthur set the cup down, unsure of how to feel, but realising that what she was saying made a lot of things much clearer. "Why?"

"He was shot by a rogue group... No one knows how they got onto the island, and those of them who weren't killed afterwards by the security here were taken to the UN courts for questioning... But, we think they were extremist protesters."

"...I... I see. That's why there was a lockdown?" It also explained why a few people had initially approached him with caution, or had muttered when he'd been introduced... Suddenly, Arthur didn't think he wanted to finish his ice cream.

She nodded again. "Yeah. And... After you, they're not going to be bringing in any new students to replace a country's slot. I mean, they got rid of the rogues and all... But there's a lot of factors that might cause the program to close, in the end."

Arthur could think of plenty of those factors. "I... Well. I thought it might have been something like that, the way everyone treated the subject with such sensitivity... But... _Bloody hell_... I didn't..." He let his shoulders drop a bit. "...I didn't think he was _murdered_."

"It shocked us all... But... What you said, Arthur, about no one wanting to become what the training facility makes you... It sounded like something he'd say." She clenched her hands around her coffee. "That's why I brought it up."

Arthur then remembered what a half-asleep Francis had said that morning, _'The old Angleterre, he used to say the same thing to me'_. He felt a little more upset, all of a sudden.

* * *

When Konstantin woke up that morning, he found Aurel had wriggled out of his embrace and left the dorm. He sat up, sighing, presuming his roommate had gone to promote his 'magic club', or whatever other strange things he usually went about doing in his free time. He stretched, feeling only a slight twinge of pain from the previous night.

By the time he'd showered and dressed it was late in the morning, and he figured he'd dedicate the rest of the day to his poetry essay... Or, rather, his poetry 'bullshit'. He began searching his bag for the few notes he'd taken, when a brisk knock at the door stopped him. He stared at the door, wondering who it was; Aurel didn't knock when coming back and he figured pretty much everyone else would have gone off to the town by now. He stood up to answer it anyway, though a few moments had passed by then, and the knock came again, with a voice.

"Kooooostaaaaaa! _KOOOOOSTAAAAAA!_" Simply by the way the voice was slurred, not to mention haughty, he could recognise who it was straight away. "KOSTA, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THEEERE."

Konstantin rolled his eyes and pulled the door open, seeing exactly who he expected – but didn't want – to see. Sat on the floor with his legs crossed, half a large bottle of what appeared to be rakija in hand, was Jovan; grinning up at him.

"What do you wan...t..." Konstantin begun, before his eyes latched on to the bottle. He swore in his native tongue and grabbed Jovan, heaving him inside the room. "What are you doing!?"

"Eeeh?" Jovan glanced down at the bottle, shrugging. Konstantin could tell he wasn't drunk after just half of a bottle, but that wasn't the point. "What's it look like, _bre_? (1) Are ya blind or something?"

"Where _the hell _did you get that!?" Konstantin hissed lowly, making a grab for the bottle, but Jovan was still too fast, and he moved out of the way.

"Where d'ya think? I stashed it. Figured I'd need it at some point." Jovan gave him another Cheshire Cat grin.

"_Alcohol blocks the drug_." Konstantin said slowly, as if Jovan was having trouble comprehending him. He was fond of alcohol himself, and so he wouldn't have said anything, were that not the case.

Jovan gave him a dismissive hand wave. "_PFFT_. Y'don't think I know that, _bre_? Still, I don't have much time left. So what's a lil' bit of alcohol before I cross over, eh? S'why I'm here."

Konstantin sighed, raking a hand backwards through his hair. "You're an idiot. You're not even crossing over for another three weeks."

Jovan snorted, "Says who, _bre_? Nah, Kosta, I turn nineteen in three weeks." He wandered over to him, and leaned his arm on his shoulder casually. "Doesn't mean I won't cross over before then." He swished the alcohol around in the bottle. "I thought, why would I go ahead and cross over when I'm still on bad terms with my old buddy? So, here I am, Kosta." The way he was grinning broadly made Konstantin suspicious. Then again, when _wasn't _Jovan suspicious? "The lockdown's over, so let's go get hammered and fuck about like we used to."

Hanging around with Jovan was the last thing Konstantin had wanted to do that day, alcohol involved or not. He stared sidelong at the other student, frowning a little. "I have work to do, sorry."

"'Work'?" Jovan cocked an eyebrow. "Like, _home_work? Like, the shit that won't matter once we cross over?"

"Yeah, exactly that." Konstantin said, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Jovan, though by now, he knew it didn't matter that he wanted to get his essay done. Jovan wasn't going to leave him alone until he got what he wanted.

"_Koooostaaaaa_!" The Serb whined, following him and draping his free arm fully around his shoulders this time. "C'mon, you used to be cool! What happened to you? What happened to _us_?"

Konstantin let out a sigh of frustration, his voice becoming hostile, "You became a backstabbing little fucker, that's what happened."

"Hey, man, that was all a misunderstanding. 'Sides, it was _ages _ago." Jovan took his arm away again. "I wanna make nice while I've still got the chance."

He didn't believe him. Konstantin was always automatically at least somewhat suspicious of everything Jovan did or said to him, after what had caused the end their friendship two years ago. Still, if Jovan was going to cross over in any less than three weeks (it sounded as if he was planning to go sooner, in fact), he did think it was favourable for them not to part on bad terms.

"So..." He squinted a bit at him. "What is it you wanna do, exactly?"

Jovan shrugged. "Drink booze, wander around until after hours, crash the town... Y'know, the stuff we used to do. Back before we fell out. And before you started followin' rules." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Just once more, man. For old time's sake."

He sounded strangely sentimental, which wasn't in his usual nature at all. Konstantin wasn't sure whether he should drop his guard, or become even more suspicious. A few moments passed, and he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even if Jovan had other plans that weren't just drinking and bumming around, it wasn't like Konstantin couldn't stand up for himself against him, should he get drunk and turn nasty... That situation wasn't ideal on its own, either. If for no other reason, he figured he at least should stay with him so he didn't end up doing anything _too_ irresponsible. The more Jovan drank, the less effective the drug would be.

"Fine." Konstantin said, after a few moments more. "But I just took the drug again last night, so I'm not drinking." His eyes glanced towards the bottle again. He didn't realise how hard it would be to turn it down. "So... Keep it out of my sight at least, okay?"

Jovan smirked, and raised the alcohol, taking a large mouthful of it. Konstantin could smell it, even from just over a yard away from him, which didn't help.

"It'll be gone before ya know it, _bre_." He snickered. "Hahah, _sheesh_. Maybe it's 'cause we haven't talked properly in a while, but when'd you get so responsible, anyway? You're like a totally different person. Heh. But don't worry." He approached him again, giving him a hefty pat on the back. "I'll find the old Kosta."

Konstantin sincerely hoped he wasn't going to stand by his word, there.

When they were ready to leave the school campus, they went through the front building and signed out; Jovan hiding his bottle of rakija from view within his jacket as they did so.

"Let's take the scenic route, eh?" Jovan asked, once they'd left through the north gates. "You remember it, don't ya?"

Konstantin glanced down the small opening within the forest. He remembered where it began, at least. "The shortcut? It's that way." He motioned in the direction with his hand.

They wandered through the opening and down a couple of off-road slopes. The further they went in, the denser and denser the forest became. The shortcut was supposed to cut across the forest to the town, as opposed to the main road which wound around the hill the Academy was built on top of. By the time they were out of sight of the school's massive white walls, far into the woodland, Jovan had already broken his rakija out again.

"So, you spoken to Lana recently?" Jovan asked off-hand, which took Konstantin by surprise. Svetlana – or Lana, as she usually went – was the Academy's delegate from Macedonia (2), and she used to hang around with Jovan and Konstantin before they fell out. The three of them were near inseparable at the time. She hadn't fallen out with Konstantin herself, but she had been the cause of his initial problem with Jovan, which had pushed them over the threshold of being friendly rivals, and had ended with them practically as enemies. Konstantin had liked Svetlana – that is to say, he liked her in the romantic sense. It had taken him a while to pluck up the courage to tell her about it, though. They had ended up dating, albeit rather casually, for about a month. However, Jovan – whilst entirely in the know about Konstantin's feelings – apparently liked Svetlana himself. It was typical cliché high school drama, and in the end Jovan had managed to steal her away from Konstantin. They were both as much to blame as each other, but Konstantin had never managed to stay angry at Svetlana for it. He'd gotten nothing _but _angry at Jovan, though. That aside, he'd kept out of their way since then, and had become best friends with Aurel instead.

"No, why?" Konstantin asked, raising an eyebrow. He wondered if there was something Jovan was going to say specifically about Svetlana.

"Just wondering. She told me she wanted to cross over soon." Jovan took another swig of the alcohol.

Despite the fact that his feelings for the girl had long since passed, it was still quite an unpleasant surprise to hear that. Konstantin paused, his gaze shifting towards the other student. He wasn't the best at reading people, or interpreting their emotions, but nor was Jovan the type to be an open book.

"Oh... How do you feel about that?" He didn't even try to sound concerned. In fact, that was probably the last thing he wanted to portray in his question.

"Ehh." Jovan shrugged. "I'm hangin' onto the hope we'll be able to hang out still when we're both there. Although, who knows what's in the training facility, eh? Might be dangerous. And, er, y'know what Lana's like. She's not ideal soldier material. I'm kinda worried, but, what can ya do?"

As much as Konstantin hated to admit it, Jovan was right about that. Svetlana may have had the requirements, like everyone else at the Academy, that fulfilled the criteria required for the program, but that didn't mean she was anything like a model example of a student ready to cross over.

"Did she say when?" Konstantin asked, frowning a little.

"Nah. Though I wouldn't count on it bein' too long after I go." Jovan shot a grin his way. "She'll probably miss me."

Konstantin didn't appreciate that Jovan was obviously trying to make him jealous, somehow. He grunted and stepped on ahead, leaving Jovan to wander as fast as he could after him, yelling, "'ey! Wait up, _bre_!"

The shortcut really did seem to turn into the scenic route, from that point on. Konstantin wasn't sure whether it was because he and Jovan hadn't talked for a while, or whether they'd gotten lost on the old route... Or both. It seemed like both. Konstantin stopped and glanced around. The woodland was mostly rainforest, fitting in with the island's geographical position, and before he had come to the Academy, he had never seen the types of trees and flora there before, apart from in books and on TV. But now the trees were starting to look very unfamiliar. They were closer together, their large leaves causing shady canopies overhead. Sunlight dappled through the few gaps there were, and landed on the slightly crunchy, slightly damp ground underfoot. Konstantin stopped, and looked around, trying to get his bearings.

"Which way next?" Jovan asked, stopping as well.

Konstantin didn't reply. He actually didn't know... Though, he didn't want to admit out loud that they were lost. He'd been following Jovan, more or less, and Jovan... Had been following him, apparently. Jovan stared at him expectantly for a few moments, and he stared back, before shrugging. In an instant, Jovan frowned, slumping his shoulders and shaking his head.

"Great. Awesome." Jovan said, overdoing the sarcasm; stepping away. He lifted his arms in a forfeiting manner.

"If we keep going on ahead, we'll get to the shore." Konstantin glanced around once more. "Then we can walk around it to the town. You said you wanted the scenic route, right?"

"I did, _bre_." Jovan turned his head over his shoulder, not cutting out the sardonic tone. "I wanted the _scenic route_, not the 'Kosta gets us fucking lost and wings it at the last minute' route."

They continued onwards in silence again. Konstantin continually hoped they'd start to see signs that they were near the town, or even signs that they were coming back towards the Academy walls, but they seemed to be constantly going in a direction he didn't recognise at all. The ground became rockier, the gradients of the slopes getting more extreme and harder to walk over, and instead of what they were looking for, boulders and crags came into sight. That meant they were at least near a cliff edge, probably off somewhere near the training facility. They could probably follow the outline of the cliff as best they could towards the lower shore line.

Jovan exhaled, leaning against a large, jagged rock and holding the bottle above his tilted head, emptying the last few drops of alcohol onto his tongue.

"Y'know, if you hadnt've drunk that, we probably wouldn't be having this problem." Kosta muttered, sitting up on a smaller boulder across from him.

"Yeah, yeah, the Goddamn booze blocks the Goddamn drug, I fucking know, _bre_." Jovan said, sounding more gloomy than angry.

Silence fell once more. It didn't seem like the intention of the trip, which was to get them on better terms, was working at all. Konstantin started to wonder if this was all in vain. He was annoyed at getting lost, but that wasn't a problem that couldn't ultimately be solved, unlike his relationship with his rival. He mused this over, but then his ears began to prick at another sound... It sounded like... Footsteps, crunching along the woodland ground.

He kept quiet for a moment, before glancing over to Jovan to see if it was him. But Jovan's feet were completely still, and he didn't seem to have heard the noise, judging by the fact that he was now staring down the neck of the empty bottle with one eye open, perhaps looking for any minor traces of rakija left.

The sound came again, and Konstantin realised it was from behind him. He turned his head around, but saw nothing but forest and rocks, as was the view every way he looked. He thought perhaps it was a small animal of some description; the wildlife around wasn't particularly harmful and so the UN had left it alone during the monopolisation of the island... But then... Why couldn't he see it? Surely he wasn't just hearing things...

He got down off the top of the rock. "Let's keep going."

"Eh. Okay." Jovan put the empty bottle back in his jacket, frowning again straight away when he looked at Konstantin. "Hey, you've gone pale. You feelin' alright?"

Konstantin didn't know whether he was just being over-paranoid or not, but he had a lingering feeling that somehow, they had to get out of there. The crunching came again; albeit softer, this time. Then it stopped. He shut his eyes for a moment, the atmosphere around him thickening... He could feel Jovan's confused eyes still on him, but he was beginning to feel... Another pair, as well. Was he just concerned for no reason? Was it all in his head? ...He didn't want to risk finding out.

"Jovan. Run." He said. Konstantin had the looming fear that someone was stalking them, and so it might have been a bad idea, but he took the chance.

"What?"

He opened his eyes, and saw something in the very edge of his peripheral vision. Shakily, he exhaled, and turned his head in that direction... And stared straight into the visor of a helmet.

_'...the gunmen were masked, and they wore black armour, and helmets, with visors...'_

He could have sworn his heart almost stopped, at that moment.

_'...they hid behind the trees, ducked behind the plants and rocks... They hid anywhere they could... The security took most of them down... But...'_

Konstantin stepped backwards, his gaze locked onto the cold black of the visor. The gunman had his rifle raised, but was as still as a statue. He could sense Jovan behind him, backing away as well, now that the source of the noise had come into plain sight.

_'...But in the crossfire, England was shot...'_

The supposedly eradicated rogues were back.

"_Fucking hell_..." Konstantin murmured in his native language, barely able to make out anything other than a whisper... He stared at the rifle, but... But it wasn't aimed straight at him. It was aimed to his right... At Jovan. He snapped his head around at his companion and rose his voice again, "RUN!"

Jovan seemed to hesitate, his jaw lax, but he turned and jogged for a moment... Then staggered backwards. Konstantin glanced back at the gunman, then at the direction Jovan had begun to head into... But there was another. Another gunman had appeared above the top of a rock, his rifle raised as well. Then another stepped out, from behind a tree... And another from around another rock... And another... _And another_... Konstantin backed up against Jovan, grabbing behind him and clenching the other's wrist tightly, _desperately_. He licked at his chapped lips for a moment, panning around the gunmen in his view, one by one.

"Are... We surrounded?" Jovan asked quietly. He was shaking as much as Konstantin was.

"...Yeah." He replied.

"...What do we do?"

Konstantin didn't know what they _could _do. They were surrounded, and unarmed, and any shot right now would kill at least one of them. He shut his eyes again, his breathing laboured. "I think we... We do what we're supposed to do."

Jovan fell silent again, and when Konstantin opened his eyes, the gunmen had begun to gradually step closer. He was back-to-back with the other student, but on impulse, he pushed closer into him. Then, in a move that would have surprised him, were they not in such a dire situation, Jovan moved his hand free of Konstantin's grasp, and interlocked his fingers with his own, squeezing on his hand.

"We fight?" He asked, eventually.

Konstantin shook his head very slightly upon instinct. That was what he had meant, but he was sceptical, after what Jovan had just drunk. "Can you?"

"Yeah. Heh." Konstantin could feel the Jovan smirking, though there was an undertone of seriousness in his voice. "Bastards won't know what hit 'em, _bre_."

"...Stand or die, huh?"

"See you on the other side, _bre_."

Jovan released Konstantin's hand and moved quickly away from him. Despite the fact that the drug in his body had been blocked by alcohol, he still moved incredibly fast. Konstantin took that as his signal to do the same. He dashed forward to the nearest gunman and punched him in the stomach. The rogues indeed didn't seem to know what had hit them, not at first. The man he hit staggered back and keeled over, but at that moment the shelling began. He'd taken the first man by surprise, and so it had been easy to take him down, but the rest were now firing, forcing Konstantin to run as fast as he could to avoid it... But not without tearing the rifle from the injured man's hands, first. He turned and put his finger on the trigger, firing a couple of rounds. Despite the fact that he was trained in Archery and not Shooting, meaning he wasn't entirely clued up on the handling of a gun, his aim was still better than that of the rogues'. That said, they were also armoured; he and Jovan were plain clothed. He managed to shoot at one of them, before ducking behind a rock. He wasn't entirely sure the hit had landed anywhere vital, but any connecting shot was an advantage.

Even hidden from view behind the rock, he wasn't safe. The rogues had seen him drop down there. He knelt up quickly, his breathing still harsh and uneven; his throat and mouth dry. Gunshots were still being fired, and so he figured Jovan was at least still moving... He didn't know what he was doing. Hopefully he was running rings around the gunmen, but Konstantin couldn't be too sure of that whilst the fight was out of view. He lifted the rifle over the top of the rock, pushing down on the trigger and firing several shots blindly above it, assuming he would at least be able to hit one of the gunmen that way. When he heard a sharp cry of pain soon after, then he stood and leaned forwards on the rock face, opening fire again at the rogues approaching. _Oh hell, _was he ever grateful of that drug and its potential to make his aim – even whilst using a weapon he was unfamiliar with – perfect, at that moment in time.

Though he took a couple more men down cleanly with the shots, leaving them writhing on the ground with pain, that didn't mean he wasn't being shot at again himself. He moved out of the way of the firing line, even though it meant leaving the safety of the shielding rock, again as fast as he could. His speed seemed to surprise one or two of the gunmen, and they faltered with their guns a bit, though one stray bullet managed to clip him on the side of his right arm, almost causing him to drop the rifle. He winced, dropping back down to the ground and rolling onto his back, pointing the rifle and firing back into the chests of a few more rogues. Their bodies flinched and shook in the intensity of the shots, before dropping down to the ground.

Konstantin scrambled back to his feet and started firing at any more approaching men, whilst running backwards. In the corner of his eye, he saw Jovan was holding his own in a similar manner, which was a weight off his mind. Two more men were coming towards him from the side again, and he had to quickly hold up the rifle to block a downwards attack with the blunt end of the rogue's gun. He struggled, but dropped to the ground on purpose to headbutt the other rogue in the stomach. Once he was out of the way he stood back up, beginning to overpower the gunman, kicking him in the leg to distract him. Once he was down, he stepped back as fast as he could and opened fire on them again before they could get back up.

He and Jovan had depleted the rogues' numbers considerably, but the battle still wasn't over. Konstantin made his way over the bodies of the fallen gunmen towards where Jovan had what looked like the last of the rogues in a headlock. The Serb grabbed the man's head and twisted it quickly, the sound of his snapping neck and the choking of his throat resounding over what was once again the quiet of the forest.

Konstantin exhaled heavily, just beginning to take in the weight of what had just happened. He dropped down to sit on the ground, the rifle slipping from his fingers. Jovan tossed the body of the rogue to one side.

"J-Jovan..." Konstantin muttered, as best he could. His heart was beating in his head; his body felt numb. All that time they'd spent training at the Academy... All that time he'd known what the outcome would be; all that time he'd known he'd willingly cross over and would be trained to fight battles exactly like that... He'd never thought the day would come so soon. There were a lot of thoughts in his head, and he shook it briskly. He almost didn't believe the situation as it was.

"Shit, son. _Shit_." Jovan said, raking a hand backwards through his choppy hair. Konstantin could see he was still shaking. He was probably thinking the same as he was. "What the hell... What the _fucking _hell... They were... They were the rogues that-"

Another gunshot resounded, and Jovan cried out in pain, his face contorting. He collapsed downwards onto Konstantin, who instantly snapped his gaze over to what appeared to be the very last of the gunmen, half-hidden behind a tree. He looked like he was ready to open fire again. Panicking, Konstantin grappled around on the ground for the rifle he'd let go of, which was more difficult with Jovan's writhing weight on top of him. The gunman shot again, but it missed and clipped off the ground near them; Konstantin's reflexes causing him to finch at it. When he felt the cold metal of the rifle finally back in his hand, he aimed and fired straight across at the final rogue, hitting him in the chest and neck.

Then, when his body had slumped down, it was silent once more... Until Jovan cried out again into Konstantin's shoulder. He pulled him off, lying him down on the ground, fearing he'd been shot somewhere vital... Thankfully, though both of them had bloodstains from fighting the rogues, Konstantin could see Jovan's wound was only on the side of his leg. He exhaled again, before examining the small, blood-soaked tear in the other's jeans.

"J-Jovan..." He spluttered, wishing he had time to be concerned about the wound. "_Goddamit_, Jovan, we have to get out of here. There could be more of the fuckers."

Jovan winced, but nodded. Konstantin checked the area over once, before picking up the rifle again, passing it over to the other student. "Hang onto this, just in case." He then turned around, putting Jovan's arms over his shoulders and heaving him up onto his back, standing, before moving his hands to support his weight underneath the tops of his legs. Jovan continued to grip onto the rifle around Konstantin's neck, though he whined a little when his wound was disturbed, gritting his teeth hard.

Konstantin broke into a run, not knowing which direction to take; though his estimate of what was back was a good idea. He was still shivering, and he could feel the same from Jovan's body, and his legs felt like they were getting weaker and weaker; like they would give out at any minute, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. His only mindset now was to get them both back to the Academy, as soon as possible.

* * *

Notes:

(1) – _'Bre' _is a Serbian word, and I'm not entirely certain, but I think it literally translates to 'bro', but really it is an interjection that puts emphasis on the sentence. However, it's usage makes it kind of vulgar. If in Serbian, you were to say _'Daj mi to'_, it would mean 'give me that', but if you were to say _'Daj me to bre!'_, it would mean 'give me that, for fuck's sake!'

(2) – Svetlana and her relationships with Jovan and Konstantin are references to the way Macedonia has been a province that has been fought over throughout history between Serbia and Bulgaria. This is generally the way Macedonia OCs are portrayed in fanworks.

I'm thinking of amping the rating up to M, because of this chapter. I'll keep you guys posted if I do.

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	8. VIII

**Version 1.1: A few small errors corrected.**

A/N:

-**Tanglepelt: **Thanks!

-**Mi3staR: **Thanks! I see Luxembourg as more childish in mentality than in looks, despite the scrapped design for him. I see him as being elegant, but quite selfish, and a spoilt brat, too.

-**UsuixMisakilover: **Thanks!

-**Emilie: **Thank you very much for your comments, and I hope you're still keeping tabs with this story!

-**Love-Me-Insanity: **Thank you! This story won't be abandoned, I just took longer than usual to update this chapter is all.

-**Crepe-and-Macaron: **Thank you for your comments!

I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter; it took longer than usual, and I apologise for that. I got a bit stuck at around halfway through. Hopefully it won't be a regular occurrence. On we go!

* * *

_**VIII.**_

"You were... Holdin' the gun wrong."

It seemed like hours had passed since the encounter with the rogues. Konstantin had no idea if the direction he'd taken was even leading them the right way, but still, he had little choice. Any direction – any at all – was better than sitting around waiting for more of the gunmen to come. Though, he and Jovan said nothing to each other during that time, until his rival shifted ever so slightly on his back.

"What?" Konstantin said, his mind elsewhere; still in the process of trying to comprehend what had actually happened... Asides from the fact that they had all but danced with death, that they had been attacked at all raised so many questions.

Jovan rested his forehead against the back of Konstantin's. "You were holdin' the gun with one hand, _bre_. You shouldn't do that when you shoot. It'll strain your wrist."

In any other situation, Konstantin would probably have said something in retaliation. It was Jovan, after all, and usually anything Jovan had to say about him that was negative pissed him off. But right now, he just didn't have the energy. And what energy he _did_ have, he was reserving in order to get them both back to the Academy grounds.

Instead, he just exhaled a half-hearted laugh, "Thanks. I'll remember that for next time."

"My leg hurts a lot." Jovan murmured into the nape of Konstantin's neck.

"Is the bleeding bad?"

He felt him nodding a bit. "I think so."

Konstantin stopped in a slight clearing between the trees. His eyes flicked around briefly, searching for any traces of the rogues in view. When he was sure it was safe, he placed Jovan down on the ground. By now, a lot of blood had seeped through his clothing. It was an unpleasant sight.

"I'm surprised you haven't passed out by now." Konstantin said, rolling the trouser leg up to examine his injury better.

"Yeah?" Jovan asked, with a slight snort. "_Pft_. That's lame, _bre_. I thought you thought better of me."

Konstantin frowned, staring at the gaping shot wound. "Even for you, it's a lot of blood."

Jovan laughed, albeit weakly. "You sound so worried."

Not knowing whether to interpret that as sarcasm or not, Konstantin sighed. "I am worried, moron."

Another amused snort. "You're a fucking sap, _bre_."

"You'd rather I didn't worry?" Konstantin glanced up at him, annoyed by that.

Jovan shot him a weak grin, before leaning back on the ground. "Nah. It's good that you do, at least."

The wound was fairly bad, and Konstantin wasn't going to risk even attempting to removing the bullet. The best he could do for Jovan was wrap up his leg in hopes that it would compress the bleeding until they got back to the Academy. He pulled the jean leg back down, shrugged off his jacket, and wrapped it around the bleeding area as tightly as he could; causing Jovan to wince and hiss in pain.

The warmth caused by the sunlight beating down on the woodland earlier on had disappeared. Konstantin's mind hadn't been on the weather at all, but he was then beginning to feel the slight thickness in the air that he'd felt the previous night. The mottled light on the ground had gone, and the small specks of sky visible above were becoming hazy.

"Looks like rain again, huh?" Jovan muttered, looking straight upwards.

Konstantin grunted, making sure the makeshift bandage was secure. "Yeah. As if things couldn't get any worse."

Jovan picked up the rifle again and Konstantin moved to pull him onto his back again, in the same way as before.

"I dunno..." Jovan's face rested against Konstantin's neck once more. "...I think the rain might feel nice, right about now."

* * *

Arthur and Elise split the bill at the ice cream shop, though it was near to lunchtime by the time they were ready to go. The beach front was filled with students, most of them piling into shops or onto the beach. The two of them went to sit down on the sand for a while, though they didn't talk much. They hadn't really spoken since Elise had told Arthur about the old England, which made things rather awkward. Arthur's mind had been on that topic more than anything else, anyway. He couldn't stop thinking of what Elise had told him about the old England wanting to overthrow the program, by crossing over and then taking it down from inside the training facility. Arthur hadn't brought up any of the details aloud, but he made a mental note to look into that, upon his return to the Academy.

"Hey, look!" Elise said, pointing across the beach.

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts for a moment and moved his gaze over to where she was pointing. He had to squint a bit to see properly, but it looked as if Lukas, Søren and two other boys were setting up a volleyball net. The four of them were in what appeared to be in swimming trunks; two of them in red t-shirts and two of them in blue, probably on purpose to signify their separate pairs. Elise stood up, brushed a bit of sand off the back of her skirt and then motioned for Arthur to follow her to go take a look.

"_Hej_, Elise, Arthur!" Søren grinned and waved at them, leaning around the side of the net, with the ball tucked under his arm. "Come to watch us play?"

Elise nodded, chuckling. "I figured Lukas and Emil might need some help burying you in the sand when you lose!"

Søren's expression dropped suddenly. "Aw, _come on_! Some supportive crowd you are!"

The other blond in red laughed, and gave Søren a pat on the back. "She's just trash talking, Søren. This'll be easy!" Arthur recognised him as the delegate from Finland, who was in both his World History and Advanced Mathematics classes.

"Easy, Tino?" Lukas said plainly, frowning slightly over the top edge of net he was fixing. "You didn't find it easy last time we played in these pairs."

Tino laughed again, sounding a bit more nervous this time. "We've had more practise since then."

Elise sat back down a good few yards away from the net. Arthur took a seat next to her.

"Those five are like a group of bickering brothers, sometimes." She leaned over and said quietly to him.

"...'Five'?" He asked. He could only see four of them – Søren, Tino, Lukas and Emil.

Elise sat back up straight. "O-Oh... Right. Um. _Four_."

Arthur stared at the four players for a moment, wondering why she had made such a mistake. He'd figured that they were a friendship group, but obviously they could only play with an even number of people... So, was there someone else that wasn't present? Oddly enough, now that he thought about it, they did seem like a... Strangely incomplete gang of friends. And, judging from the way Elise glanced quickly towards the four students, as if to check they hadn't heard what she had just said, that seemed a reasonable assumption.

"...Right." He muttered, shrugging it off.

The four northern Europeans didn't play volleyball like Konstantin and Jovan played tennis. Their match was more normal, and a lot easier on the eyes; though, a few times Lukas served, he managed to smack Søren straight in the face with the ball. Arthur could have sworn he was doing it on purpose.

"_Salut_!" A sing-song voice said cheerfully, after a few rounds of the game had passed.

The strange boy who had been sat on the mesh at the tennis match plopped down on the sand next to Arthur, sitting cross-legged.

"Erm. Hello." Arthur replied, startled.

Elise leaned around him. "Hey, Aurel!"

Now that he could see him up close, Aurel looked even stranger, to Arthur. His eyes appeared to be red, though it was assumable they were just an odd shade of brown, and he was grinning broadly, showing off a broken canine tooth at the front of his mouth that almost looked like another fang (1). What was even more odd was that he wore a perfectly average pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but he also had a little black hat, donned with red and yellow ribbon and held in place by a Victorian-style brooch, perched on the top of his head; looking very out of place.

"Lukas tells me you're reading 'The Witches of Blackheart Tomb' at the moment." Aurel said.

Arthur thought that to be an unusual conversation starter. "I am, yes."

"Wonderful!" Aurel beamed, moving his arms for dramatic effect. "That's one of my favourite books. How far in are you?"

"Erm... Just past the first chapter."

The other boy looked crestfallen for a moment. "Oh... I suppose discussing it with you would ruin the story, then." However, he then lit up once again. "What other occult books have you read then? 'Desolate Exorcisms'? 'The Soul of Cleopatra'? 'Blood on the Altar'?"

"No, actually, I haven't read any of those." Arthur replied, clearing his throat.

"Ah! Wonderful!" Aurel made the same motion with his arms as before. "Then perhaps you'd like to?"

Arthur couldn't tell where this conversation was going. "Perhaps?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

The younger student flashed his teeth again. "I'd like to invite you to become a member of the magic club! Our activities primarily consist of dressing up like Harry Potter, performing love spells and praying for an abundant harvest. Oh, but we also read novels on occasion."

"I... See." Arthur thought it sounded quite pointless, from Aurel's description, though he had to admit that magic and the occult was one of his interests, and so he didn't turn it down immediately. "Well, I'll think about it."

"Oh, please do! We meet on Tuesday evenings in the library." Aurel's smile waned for a moment. "Ah, Lukas and I, that is. We're... Slightly lacking in members."

"Oh." Arthur coughed slightly again, not meaning to sound sarcastic. "I wonder why that is."

Aurel looked as if he was about to answer, when a shadow fell over the three of them. Simultaneously, they all craned their heads to Elise's left, where a tall figure had stood close to her, blocking the sunlight. It took Arthur a few moments, but he soon remembered his face. It was the delegate from the Netherlands – the tall, spiky haired young man who had gone to see the Vice Principal at around the same time as he had. He was still wearing his long, blue and white striped scarf, but now he had a large beige coat on that didn't seem to match with the warm weather... He didn't look particularly happy, either. He had his back to the sunlight, so only when Arthur's eyes focused properly on him, could he see that the newcomer had a very nasty-looking scar on his forehead.

"_Broer_!" Elise said happily, standing up and smoothing her skirt down. Elise was quite tall for a girl, but next to the male student, she looked much shorter. "Did you come to watch the game with us?"

Netherlands glanced at her for a second, but then stared back at Arthur with a scowl. It was only then that Arthur actually realised he was looking at him directly. "_Nee_. I came to have a word with your _new friend_." He grumbled in a deep voice.

Arthur tensed up, startled; not liking the way he had said 'new friend'. He glanced back at Aurel for a moment, to check he wasn't talking about him, before raising his head to look at the tall student again. "Me?"

"_You_." He replied.

Elise interjected, frowning a bit, "Lars? What's Arthur done?"

Netherlands looked down at the girl again. "I hear the two of you were on a date today. I wanted to lay down some... _Rules_ with him." As he said the last part, he glowered over at Arthur again.

"A... Uh... Wait, _what_?" Arthur felt his expression becoming even more confused than before. Had he just heard that right?

Elise shook her head briskly. "Nooo... No, no, no, we weren't doing anything of the sort, _broer_!" There was a visible frown on her face, and she put her hands on her hips. "Who told you that?"

"Clara and Adéla (2)." Lars replied gruffly.

Arthur couldn't tell who those two were by their given names, not that his mind was on that fact; he was more bothered about the rather obvious mistake Lars had made. Elise put her hand to her forehead and groaned.

"Right... They were in the ice cream parlour too..." She said.

"So you admit it?" Lars frowned, narrowing his eyes at her.

"No!" Elise snapped at him. "I just told you, it's not like that! Besides, you can't believe everything _those two _say!"

Shifting uncomfortably out of his seat and standing, Arthur spoke up, "I... Erm. I think there has been a... Serious misunderstanding here."

Lars folded his arms and peered down his nose at Arthur, expecting him to go on and explain himself. Arthur felt the tips of his ears go pink, and he exchanged glances with Elise for a moment, though she continued to frown just as much as her 'broer'.

"Erm... Well, I don't know what... _Rumours_ have been spreading around today..." Arthur's brow furrowed as he remembered the muttering trio of girls in the ice cream shop, deducing that two of them must have been the Clara and Adéla that Lars was talking about. "Though I have had the..." He coughed again, finding this to be quite uncomfortable. "...Pleasure of sharing Elise's company today, I certainly have not done so with the... Intention that you are implying."

Lars cocked an eyebrow. "So, my _zusje _is not good enough for you?"

"T-That's not what I said at all, you prick!" Arthur jolted, feeling the rest of his face heat up now, which irritated him all the more.

"Lars!" Elise hissed, smacking the Dutchman on the arm. "You're such a jerk!"

He didn't seem to care about the smack, or the insults. He grunted, shooting Arthur another glare, "I hope you keep to your word."

Arthur hadn't thought he'd given Lars his word on anything, but before he could make an enquiry, the Dutch student had turned on his heel and walked away, his scarf fluttering in a sudden heavy breeze behind him. Elise shook her head again, sighing, before turning towards Arthur again.

"Sorry about him." She looked apologetic. "He's kind of blunt sometimes. He doesn't like to be told he's wrong, either."

As if things between them hadn't been amped up in the awkward department already, being mistaken for having gone on a date with her seemed to make things a lot worse. Arthur frowned, but tried to calm down, telling himself it wasn't worth getting worked up over.

"Right... Is he your brother, then?" He asked. He did get the vibe that Lars was being overprotective, after having gotten the wrong end of things.

"Um. Sort of. We're not really siblings. He just likes to act like a big brother to me and Kristian, so we treat him like one." She replied.

"I see." Arthur then realised that Elise's relationship with Kristian wasn't romantic at all... They and Lars were like a group of two brothers and a sister, then. Of course, since Elise was an orphan, and presumably Kristian and Lars were, too, it wouldn't have made sense for them to be blood siblings.

Aurel spoke up again, after having stayed out of the conversation with Lars; he had also gotten up off the sand. "Sometimes, when you spend long time around others from the Academy, particularly if they are from countries close to your own, or speak a similar native language, you become like a family of sorts." He flashed his teeth again, motioning to the northern Europeans, who were still engaged in their volleyball game. "Like those five!"

Arthur glanced over, and corrected Aurel, "_Four_."

"Oh... Yes, that's what I meant, of course." Aurel shifted his eyes for a moment, before grinning once more. "I have a little brother of my own, in fact!"

After hearing the mistake being made by Aurel now, as well as by Elise, Arthur's suspicions about Lukas, Søren and the other two began to rouse again. Though, he decided not to say anything. They didn't look particularly glum whilst playing their match, so he didn't think that maybe the fifth piece of their ensemble had met the same fate as the previous England... Perhaps he or she simply just wasn't present at the time... But then again, Elise and Aurel's reactions to being corrected seemed to be a little overdone for that... More questions were arising in Arthur's mind, now, and it was all the more frustrating.

"_WOOOOOOO__**HOOOOOOOOO**_!" Cried Søren's voice from across the sand.

The three of them glanced over, seeing Søren jump up and punch the air in glee; Tino laughing and putting his arm around the taller student's shoulders, giving his wild hair a ruffle with the other hand. It appeared their side had won. Emil, the Icelandic student who was the shortest of the four; a young teen with white blonde hair, was stood peering over at the victorious pair, a slight frown on his features. Lukas, meanwhile, had gone to collect the ball from across the sand, and shook his head when he returned to the net.

"Don't get cocky." He was heard saying. "Best two out of three."

Tino laughed again, "That wasn't part of the agreement, Lukas!"

"Yup! One game only!" Søren's shot his lopsided grin over the net. "And you two _LOSERS _are gettin' dipped in the ocean for it!"

Lukas launched the ball over the net, hitting Søren square in the face, which made the Dane squark in surprise and stagger backwards.

"You'll have to catch us first." There was a vaguely playful tone in Lukas's voice, and he quickly grabbed Emil's wrist, before running off across the sand; straight past Arthur, Elise and Aurel, who continued to stare on.

"Søren!" Tino grabbed the ball and tugged on his team mate's arm, laughing again. "They're getting away!"

"Awh, _Goddammit_, Lukey!" Søren yelled, breaking into a run.

Tino followed after him. The three onlookers continued to watch as Lukas and Emil darted up the steps that lead back up to the beach front, the other two in pursuit.

"They'll be running around in circles for the rest of the day." Elise laughed a bit, crossing her arms around her waist before shivering a bit, as another cold breeze rolled past.

Arthur glanced up at the sky. Though it was blue overhead still, there were grey clouds forming in the distance... Very _dark _grey clouds, in fact. "Hmn... Looks like another storm." He muttered.

"A-Another storm, you say?" There was an anxious look that crossed Aurel's face suddenly. "Oh... W-Well, then! I'd best be going!" He seemed to fake his grin, this time, though Arthur couldn't tell what had deterred him all of a sudden. Was it the idea of an oncoming storm? "I don't want to get wet!" He started to wander away quickly, giving a soft laugh. "Do think about the magic club!"

Before the other two could say goodbye, Aurel had broken into a run. They watched him head into the same direction the other four had gone, before turning back to each other.

"Weird..." Elise muttered. "Well, anyway, is there anything else you wanted to do?"

Arthur glanced back up towards the rolling clouds. "Getting undercover might be an idea."

She chuckled, linking arms with him once again, which caught him off-guard, this time. "Let's go find Alfred, hm?"

"Ah... Yes, alright."

He just hoped Lars wouldn't catch them walking that way together.

* * *

When it rained on Pangaea, it poured. Even in the denser areas of the forest, the water still seeped through the leaves of the trees. Now that it was November, it was a fairly cold rain, too. Konstantin could see why Jovan thought it would be nice. The slight drizzle that managed to get into the woodland was refreshing; calming, even. But, Konstantin's nerves were still on edge, regardless. His feet were aching by now; his body felt like it should be tired, but he was aware that the drug was keeping it going, thankfully. He told himself he wasn't going to stop, at any rate. No matter what, he had to get himself and Jovan back to the safety of the Academy... And there was still every chance that there could be more rogues out there, waiting.

Jovan hadn't said anything for a long time, though he hadn't let go of the rifle, which told Konstantin that he was still conscious, at the very least. He'd become worried if he passed out. So, when he did eventually speak up again, it came as a surprise.

"You're... Still shakin'."

Konstantin sighed through his nose. "I know." His senses were on full alert, and his body would twitch at every little noise or movement, even if they were just from Jovan.

But Jovan himself had seemed to have calmed down already. Any other time, and Konstantin would have gotten pissed off by the sheer allusion that Jovan was stronger than himself in that respect.

"Guess this is... My fault, huh?" Jovan let out a weary laugh. "Nah, what'm I sayin'? _You're_ the one who got us lost."

"This isn't the time for that." Konstantin muttered, annoyed that he would even bring it up.

"_Ne_. I know, _bre_. Just thought... It'd be better than sayin' nothing at all, y'know? You're so tense... And yeah, I get why, but you still need to calm down."

Jovan's body was getting limper, his grip around Konstantin's shoulders beginning to loosen.

"So... Talk to me. About anythin'. I don't care what. Just as long as it takes your mind off things."

"...My mind is on _things_ for a reason, Jovan." Konstantin wished he could have sounded more annoyed than he did.

"Mnh. I know, I know, but still; it feels like you're about to have a heart attack."

Konstantin exhaled again, unhappy about what Jovan was saying at a time like this. "I might as well."

"Nah, _bre_." Jovan shook his head. "Nah, y'see, you can't do that... 'Cause then, both of us would die out here..."

His hold slacked again, and this time, Konstantin panicked because of it.

"You're not going to die, Jovan." He said forcefully, putting as much strength as he could muster under where he was carrying him.

Jovan gave a low, weak cackle, "Would ya miss me much if I did?"

"_Shut up_, Jovan." Konstantin near spat out. He couldn't think about things like that, not at a time like this. It was bad enough that Jovan could. "Just _shut up_."

"So that's a no? That hurts, _bre_."

"_Jovan_."

"I'd miss you. Even if you're not the same kid you used to be."

"_Shut up_!"

At last, it fell silent between them again, though Konstantin could still feel Jovan smirking from ear to ear behind him. Jovan knew how to push his buttons, that was for sure. But he didn't think he'd be doing it at a time like this. Why would he say things like that after he'd just told him he wanted him to calm down? Not that it mattered. This certainly wasn't the time to be questioning the inner workings of Jovan's mind. Konstantin figured it would probably be just as muddled as his own was, anyway.

The forest, getting soaked by the rain, smelt of damp and dirt, though the scent of blood was carried with them, lingering on both of their bodies. Konstantin's boots were squelching through the more soggy, swamp-like patches of ground underfoot. The downpour was unrelenting, and the distant roll of thunder made it worse.

Konstantin thought of Aurel straight away when he heard it... He felt a pang of guilt. The kid was probably cowering under something. A table, the back corner of a room; if not under Konstantin's bed covers already. He couldn't be there to comfort him every time there was a storm, of course, but _hell_, did he ever wish that he was back there, right now.

The idea that there were still rogues out there – possibly on their tail – lingered over him; worse than the storm itself. He wondered if he'd ever see Aurel again... The sheer thought that he might not hurt more than any bullet would have, he was sure...

...Then again, he hadn't been the one shot, so who was he to make the comparison? He wondered if Jovan was thinking along the same lines. Perhaps he was wondering to himself if he'd see Svetlana again; or if he'd see Ivan, the young Russian delegate who looked up (metaphorically) to Jovan as an older brother figure, again. Or maybe he wasn't. Jovan seemed to lack a lot of empathy, sometimes. But if there were two people at the Academy he at least gave a damn about, it was definitely them. He didn't ask, though. He might not have been able to tell exactly what Jovan was thinking or feeling right then and there, but he knew that bringing the matter up would just end in the other calling him a sap again.

"Hey..." Jovan's voice murmured after a while, sounding weaker than before. "Kosta, look. Look up the hill."

Konstantin hadn't even realised he'd been walking whilst staring at the ground, wearily. "Hnh?" He grunted, lifting his head towards the steep slope nearby...

...Suddenly, there was hope. An edge of the tall, majestic white walls that bordered the Academy grounds stood at the peak of the hill. They were almost back... They'd almost gotten to safety. Konstantin felt like he could collapse with relief then and there... But no, he had to keep going. Just a little further.

"I don't think I've ever been so damn happy to see those walls." He had to take a couple of deep breaths to keep his voice straight.

Jovan gave a light laugh, leaning his head against the back of Konstantin's again. "Me neither, _bre_. Me neither."

* * *

Alfred was to be found still at the arcade, engrossed in a rather loud and graphic video game that involved hacking at zombies with chainsaws. Arthur couldn't fathom why Alfred would get scared at The Witches of Blackheart Tomb, but could play... What was it called? '_Zombie Chainsaw Massacre 3_' without a care in the world. Arthur and Elise decided to leave him be, and wait in the doorway until he had run out of Allowance chips to feed the machines with.

They'd gotten in just before the storm begun. The pitter-patter of rain was so heavy, and came down so quickly, that it almost drowned out the _bleep-bloop_ing and _kaching_ing inside. The front doors of the arcade were tightly shut, though they stood by the front window instead, so as not to block the threshold; watching the dark skies pour down upon the beach front, clearing it of passers by; those whom were left outside hurrying about to find cover.

There wasn't a conversation between them, once again – at first; although, Arthur wished that there was. He wondered to himself if Elise was being quiet because of what she had told him at the ice cream parlour about the old England, or because of the mistake Lars had made. Perhaps it was both. Even so, he passed the time by thinking of what he would do next. He had homework to do, first of all. But once that was done, he had decided he would go looking into more matters concerning the Academy. It was unusual; Arthur didn't think he was the type to go snooping around in business that wasn't his own... Maybe he was the type. Or, maybe it was his business, after all. He'd never been put in this kind of situation before, so how would he know?

"Hey, Arthur?" Elise spoke up, after a while, breaking his trail of thoughts.

"...Yes?" He replied, peering sidelong at her.

She was staring straight out of the window, a slight frown on her features. "Did you think there was something... _Odd_ about Lars?"

Arthur thought about it for a few moments. All he could recall that was odd about Lars that was _odd _was the scar on his forehead.

"Erm... Well, do you mean his scar?"

Elise shook her head. "No, he's had that for a couple of years." She turned to look at him. "...Because of what he was saying, I didn't notice at the time... Actually, I didn't realise until just now. But, there was just something... Different about him."

"I, erm... Can't say I know." Arthur had only seen Lars twice; the first time was outside the Vice Principal's office. Like Elise, he had also been more bothered about what the Dutch student had been saying, rather than how he looked.

"The last time I saw him outside of class before today was Tuesday... I wonder what he's been doing." Elise turned forward again, folding her arms.

Arthur didn't think he needed any more mysteries on his plate right now, so he decided to leave that one up to Elise to solve, should the need have arisen. At that moment, however, Alfred came slumping over.

"Hey, guys..." He mumbled.

Elise gave him a smile over her shoulder. "No chips left?"

"No." Alfred frowned, sighing a little. "Not on me, anyway. Guess the candy'll have to wait 'til tomorrow."

Arthur glanced towards Alfred, then outside again. "Are we going to risk it?"

"Going to risk what?" Alfred asked, lifting from his slouch and stretching his arms (that had probably been bent out of shape by the vigour of his gaming).

"Walking back in this weather." Arthur replied, cocking an eyebrow and motioning to the window with his head.

"Um..." Elise peered outside, her smile waning a bit. "It's just raining right now... So, maybe if we run?"

There was a sudden flash of sheet lightning across the ocean, which lit up the distant area for a second.

"_Whoa_." Alfred said, in a remarkably plain tone, for him.

The booming thunder came shortly after. Elise turned back to the other two, shrugging.

"Or, maybe we could wait a bit."

It wasn't long before the storm started to get closer, and more wild, the sea visibly surging by the time a very drenched young woman, who apparently was one of the arcade workers, approached the three of them. A quick glance around the arcade showed that another, equally as wet worker was handing out florescent-coloured umbrellas to any of the Academy students. The woman handed one to each of the three of them.

"There's a message gone around town from the Academy." She explained, meanwhile. "All students are wanted back as soon as possible. There should be some transport waiting at the bottom of the hill road. If not, just keep on course anyway."

"Is it a bad storm?" Elise asked, after they had thanked the woman.

She nodded. "Yeah. It's not at its worst right now, though. Just be quick and stay safe."

"We'll be sure to. Thank you." Elise said, with an acknowledging nod back.

The woman picked up her bright umbrella collection and moved on. Students were already starting to pour out onto the beach front; eye-popping specks of green and yellow and orange visible beginning to jump up through the window's view.

"Lovely colours, aren't they?" Arthur remarked sardonically, as the three of them moved towards the exit.

"I guess it's so we don't get lost in the bad weather." Elise shrugged a bit.

"Oh." Arthur coughed, trying not to make up an amusing mental image of Francis getting whipped up by a bad updraught of wind in a bright orange umbrella, and taken across the ocean and into the dark clouds, whilst screaming _'SACRE BLEEEEU_!' and kicking his legs about, whilst China and India would be sailing below on a small rubber dinghy, trying to hook him down with a long paddle-like device. He was, of course, failing to keep that sudden image out of his head, but he at least managed to conceal an amused chortle. "I see."

Braving the weather was harder than it looked, however. The lashings of rain and wind didn't make it easy to erect the umbrellas. Nor did it make it easy to walk; but Elise clung to Arthur's right arm, and Alfred clung to his left, and the three of them held tight on their umbrellas and pushed forward through the town's streets against the chaotic weather all the same. There were several cars and jeeps at the bottom of the hill that lead back up to the Academy, as the woman in the arcade had told them. By that time, the umbrellas hadn't done much except provide somewhat of a windshield, though. They were still drenched by the time their little clump reached the transport. There were security guards in black uniforms everywhere; apparently the same guards that had escorted Arthur when he had first come to the Academy, but more of them. The students were made to line up in an orderly fashion, before their umbrellas were taken and they were escorted to a vehicle. As soon as one was full, it would speed off up the hill. Arthur, Elise and Alfred were eventually squeezed into the back of a car with another girl, and another boy took the passenger's seat. It felt nice to be out of the storm again, even though everyone was already dripping wet already.

Alfred apparently knew the boy in the front, so despite the tight squeeze in the back seats he leaned forward and talked to him for a short while. The boy was a light brunet with shoulder-length hair; Arthur remembered having encountered him around the school before, when he'd been carrying a pile of books across the campus. He seemed quite timid, but had a nice enough demeanour. Arthur didn't end up hearing much of their conversation, but Alfred called him Toris to get his attention. He figured they must have been friends, or maybe shared a few classes together.

"But, goodness, I've never seen a storm quite like this one..." Arthur heard Toris say at one point during the journey.

It was actually a shorter drive than Arthur remembered, coming back to the Academy, even though this guard had to drive slower due to the weather. They were driven through the front gates and to the steps of the front building; the driver then dismissed them and they had to shuffle out of the vehicle and back into the bad weather.

Thunder cracked loudly overhead, as the five students scuttled up the outer steps to the foyer, each of them seeming to breathe a sigh of relief once indoors. The lady in the toga was seated behind the reception desk, and she told everyone to make a queue to sign back in. Most of the marble floor was wet and muddy by now, squeaking under everyone's shoes as the line moved along; though more and more students were returning, and so it didn't shorten.

After a while, China passed them. He was apparently walking up and down the queue, nodding to each student, probably doing a head count or something. He then disappeared out of the front doors for quite a while, though Arthur didn't take much notice of what he was doing. It didn't seem any of the other students did, either.

Arthur signed in first when the line reached them, giving his full name and country's name before stepping away from the desk and towards the back doors. Alfred was heard giving a quick goodbye to Toris, before he came and joined Arthur.

"Oh, yeah, heads up, dude. Last time this happened they called for an assembly just to double-check everyone got back." He said. "Y'know, in case you were plannin' on doing anything else."

Arthur shook his head, though that was true. But he was sure his homework (and his upcoming 'research') could wait for an assembly. "I was just going to go get changed."

"Sure, it won't be for another half hour, at least. Catch ya later, anyway, man." Alfred gave him a grin and a pat on the shoulder, before jogging ahead towards the boys' dorm building.

"Bye."

Elise caught up with him, then. She was pulling the red ribbon out of her damp hair with one hand, but she touched Arthur lightly on the arm as she passed, smiling. "See you, Arthur."

"Bye." He repeated, raising his hand to wave at her.

She waved back for a moment, before disappearing into the small crowd of girls that was piling into the opposite dorm building.

Arthur felt quite relieved to be back in his dorm room shortly after, which was dry and fairly warm and was brightly lit once he'd turned the light on. Francis wasn't in; Arthur figured he was either still signing in, had moved down to the common room and was perhaps waiting for the assembly, or – in a more unlikely turn of events – had actually been swept away by the wind, as Arthur's little mental image had shown him. He snorted, whilst thinking about it again. Even though the weather had brought an abrupt end to his first day out since coming to the Academy, at least _that _little in-joke of his was going to keep him amused.

* * *

The white walls were in sight, but that didn't make things all that much easier for Konstantin. Getting up the slope was going to be impossible, but at least he could use it as a landmark and refer to the tactics he was going to use to get him and Jovan to the town. Following the perimeter around would lead back to a road, and then either to the south or north gate. The hardest part was over, at least. Now all they had to do was just pray there weren't more rogues hiding near the gates, awaiting them...

...Unless the rogues had invaded the Academy already, and gone on an all-out massacre... The thought crossed Konstantin's mind suddenly, his stomach sinking in horror. _No_... He tried to shake the idea off. The school was too well-guarded... Wasn't it?

"Kosta...? Hey, Kosta...?" Jovan mumbled, his grip on the rifle beginning to loosen again.

"...Yeah?" Konstantin replied cautiously, startled at his lax hold again.

"My eh... My head's fuzzy. Put me down, okay...? 'fore I drop the gun..."

_'Not now... We're so close...'_

Despite his inner complaints, Konstantin stopped walking, and gently lowered Jovan down to the ground. The rifle dropped out of his limp fingers with a clunk, before Konstantin could even turn around to face the other... But Jovan himself did the same soon after, dropping backwards and onto the woodland floor.

"Jovan!" Konstantin exclaimed, moving as fast as he could to catch him, threading his arms underneath the other's; wrapping them around his torso. He began to panic again. He was no longer able to hear the rain over the drumming of his heart in his head. "_Not now!_" He repeated his thoughts in a quiet hiss to the other man, resting his head on his shoulder for a moment. Jovan's body had become completely slack, though he was still conscious.

"...'Not now'...?" Jovan let out a strained laugh between his heavy breaths. "...You always say that... _Heh_. 'Not now... I'm studying'... 'Not... Now... I'm busy...'..."

He was doing it again. At a time like this. Konstantin scowled, leaning Jovan forward with care and taking his arms away, lying him on the ground next to the abandoned gun.

"_Shut up_." He glowered down at him.

What he got in return was a weak grin. "_Me_...? Shut up...? After... Bein' told by _you_? No thanks, _bre_... S'not really my style..."

Konstantin couldn't tell whether his eyes were burning from glowering or from actual emotion, but they were burning all the same, and even so, he couldn't take his eyes of that _damn grin_.

"Not that... You listen to anythin' I say, either..." Jovan moved his head to the side, looking away from him. "...But, hey... That's just how we've always been..."

Konstantin tore his gaze away, cursing in his native tongue underneath his breath. He tried to hide Jovan's expression from view by busying himself looking at his wrapped wound again. The blood had seeped through the fabric and was dripping onto the ground, washing into the mud and rainwater. Konstantin had worn a lighter jacket, having not expected another storm to hit the island. He was regretting that decision, now.

"But... Y'know... Now that I think about it... Maybe I should've listened to ya after all."

Telling Jovan to shut up was redundant, but Konstantin opened his mouth to do it again, pausing at the last moment, before lowering his head, shutting his eyes.

"_Yes, idiot_." He muttered, his teeth clenched together. He was trying hard not to completely lash out at Jovan. _Not now_. "_Yes, _you _fucking should have_." Once again, any forcefulness he tried to put forward failed to come across in his voice.

"...Yeah..." Jovan gave another short laugh, his words gradually becoming softer. "...I'll remember, _bre_... I'll remember for next time..."

When Konstantin looked back towards Jovan's face a few moments later, his eyes were lidded. For a moment, he started to panic again, frantically muttering the other's name over and over and scooting closer to him. To his relief, Jovan was still breathing.

_'It's okay... He's just passed out...' _He told himself, though it did nothing to settle his nerves. Even so, he couldn't linger around waiting to calm down. He had to continue; he had to keep going... He was so close... _They_ were so close.

Konstantin balanced the rifle on top of Jovan's chest, before scooping one of his arms underneath his shoulders; the other carefully underneath the back of his legs. It was harder to carry him now that his body was limp, but he managed to stand up and keep going. He had no choice but to do so.

It took a while... _Hell_, it took far too long. Jovan was bleeding badly; it was amazing he'd lasted as long as he had done. Konstantin couldn't even estimate how long they'd been lost out there – the storm was consistent, and it was difficult to tell the time of day. It felt like they'd been out there for hours, at least. It was probably well into the afternoon by now. When the north gate – still open – came into sight, he all but broke into a run onto the road, and up what was left of the ascent of the hill...

...And then... They were back.

The white walls behind him, the guards on the gates moving off their stations and towards them, Konstantin dropped to his knees in an instant, the world around him becoming a blur. Never in his life had he felt such a weight lifted from his shoulders... He'd done it. He'd gotten them back... He clenched his eyes shut, embracing Jovan's body tightly; the rifle rolling off his chest and back to the ground like a discarded toy.

The gate security didn't even need prompting before one of them got on the phone to the Academy, the rest of them clumping around the two students. At least, that was what Konstantin could deduce, from what he could hear. He wasn't looking. He didn't open his eyes until one of the guards told him to let go and lay Jovan down.

He did so, feeling like he could pass out himself, at that moment.

One of the guards now had the rifle in hand, the rest of them huddled around Jovan. Konstantin rolled down to lay on his back nearby, feeling his adrenaline fading and his body aching worse than before. The grass was soaking wet with rain water – then again, so was he. The open downpour felt cool against his skin... It was more calming than the rain in the forest.

"He's bleeding, badly." One of the guards said.

"There's a first aid kit in the gate box, go get it!" Another cried.

"It's a shot wound – was he shot with this?"

"He's out cold. He appears to have lost a lot of blood, but he's still breathing. He could be in shock."

"The staff are on their way."

"Check his pulse."

They were back... They were _home_... Konstantin didn't even want to think how many time he had thought he and Jovan were going to die over the past hours. He felt like the nightmare was over, finally... But, was it?

"He needs medical attention, _now_."

"Disinfect the wound and then wrap his leg again with one of those bandages - quickly!"

Konstantin turned his head to look to the side. He could barely see Jovan's body through the guards, but he could make out one thing. _Blood_. But, what was old and what was new? Jovan was still bleeding, that's what mattered. He mustered enough strength to sit up again, watching and waiting; the utter relief fading, being replaced by fear again. He pushed himself forward, and went back on his hands and knees to where Jovan lay. Luckily, the guards didn't dismiss him; they were too concerned with the injured student's body. Konstantin knelt down next to his head, reaching over and brushing Jovan's thin fringe off his closed eyes with the tips of his fingers. His face had unchanged since he had first passed out; he looked serene – like he had no idea what was going on around him right now.

The voices were seeping in and over each other, becoming mere blurred background noise to Konstantin.

The guard on the phone snapped it shut. "We're being told to close the gate." He moved off to apparently do that, the rest of them more concerned about Jovan.

"His pulse is there, but it's slowing."

"We need to contact the hospital in town; the infirmary here won't have all the equipment."

One of the guards moved away to do that – Konstantin couldn't tell who to link the voices to; not that he cared... All of this was too harrowing. He rested his hand against his rival's forehead and – sensing how cold he was – his heart sank... Jovan couldn't really... Be _dying_, could he?

"WHAT GOING ON!?" China's voice called across the driveway. He was striding fast, without an umbrella or even a coat on, and there were a few other teachers in sight following; a couple of them carrying a stretcher and one of them, in particular, a tanned woman in a long white robe whom was easily identifiable as the school's nurse. China spoke up frantically again, the closer he drew to the gates. "WHAT HAPPEN!?"

"This student has a shot wound, Sir." A few of the men parted for China to take a look.

He crouched down besides Jovan for a moment, a look of shock crossing his face. He stared up at the guards again, snapping, "Why this happen?"

"The other boy carried him through the gates, Sir. We've no evidence so far except for this rifle."

China stood again, allowing India and Cameroon – a muscular, dark-skinned bespectacled man, who served as the Track teacher and also organised the Academy's soccer team – to place the stretcher they were carrying between them down on the ground.

"Bulgaria, get back." China instructed, moving around the group.

Konstantin reluctantly did as he was told, whilst the guards moved to help the other teachers get Jovan onto the stretcher. The last thing he saw before his attention was taken by China was the nurse fixing what looked like an oxygen mask onto the other student's face.

"What happen?" His tone was more sympathetic this time, and he folded his arms back into his sleeves as he usually did.

Konstantin stared at him for a good few moments. He then fell back into a seated position from his kneel, before exhaling. "I... It was the rogues."

China's eyes went wide with shock. "You kidding..."

"No. _No_!" Konstantin said, raising his voice as much as his energy levels would allow him to. "It was..." He took a few more deep breaths, to steady his tone. He raised his arm, then; motioning to the guard with the rifle. "...Check the gun."

China turned on his heel to face said guard. "Give that to me." He extended a hand towards the man.

The guard shifted, looking reluctant. "I'm sorry, Sir, but this is classified evidence-"

"I no give shit, give it to me!" China snapped, motioning with his fingers.

The man glanced around his colleagues, as if looking for some kind of affirmation from them; however, most of them were still more concerned with Jovan. Konstantin looked back over, and saw his body being carried as quickly as possible back towards the Academy building by India and Cameroon, the nurse lingering over the stretcher at the side. The last of the staff on the scene was one of Konstantin's teachers, Vietnam – a young Southeast Asian woman who wore her long brown hair in a ponytail and usually had a very strict look about her. She hadn't crossed over the previous year and now took the Woodwork class (3); Konstantin had learnt that her strict demeanour was usually carried over into her teaching methods. She favoured threatening her students with her notorious rice paddle, which she kept at the front of the class as a lingering warning of not to misbehave, or forget about homework. But right now, she actually looked more sympathetic than anything... Across her eyes, at least She'd been carrying blankets to the scene; one had been put across Jovan's body, the other was still in her hands, until she leant down by Konstantin, draping it around his shoulders without asking whether he wanted it or not.

When China was given the rifle, he nearly snatched it out of the guard's hands, examining it closely for a few moments before handing it back to the man. "We discuss inside." He said, turning towards Konstantin and Vietnam. "Hurry. In."

Konstantin's legs were aching; it hurt to stand but he did so anyway, holding the already damp blanket around his drenched body. But after the distance he had covered in the forest, the driveway up to school was an easy walk, though the storm was still raging overhead. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or not again, when he finally got inside. It was nice to be out of the rain, but he was soaked to the bone, so it didn't matter. The foyer's lights were bright, and he winced at them, his head aching.

"Vietnam, go put word out. Tell students they all stay in dorms." China ordered as soon as the foyer doors were shut. As Vietnam moved away to do that, he turned to Konstantin. "You go get cleaned up in dorm. You no injured, right?"

Konstantin was pretty sure he didn't count as injured. "I'm fine..."

"Good." And with a curt nod, China slunk away across the foyer towards the infirmary.

Konstantin figured they'd already taken Jovan there... He breathed another sigh of alleviation, at that thought. There was nothing more that he could do, now, except wait to tell the story. Jovan was safe... He was unwell, but he was _safe_, at the very least... And so was Konstantin himself. Less than an hour ago, the notion of that had just been a glimmer of hope that he'd hung onto.

He dragged himself back towards the boys' dorm building, praying that Aurel would be cowering beneath the bedsheets; unable to see the stains of blood on his clothes and hands.

* * *

Notes:

(1) – There is a fan theory that Romania's snagtooth is actually a broken tooth rather than a fang. In this setting, I prefer this headcanon.

(2) – I'll probably end up explaining who these two are at a later date.

(3) – Vietnam was originally going to be the Poetry teacher, but after a bit of reconsideration, I decided to put her as the Woodwork teacher instead. Her official profile says she uses her skilfullness to build new things, so I think it fits.

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	9. IX

A/N:

-**Mi3staR: **Thanks for reviewing! I don't know if you caught one of my end notes in the second chapter; I specifically have tweaked the heights of some of the characters because of the way ages have to differ in a high school setting; ie. Iceland is quite a bit younger than the rest of the Nordics at the moment, so I imagine they'll all be at least a little taller than him. For now, anyway; I'm not saying that Iceland is much shorter than them and will remain so forever. I am also aware Vietnam is Southeast Asian, I'm actually not sure why I wasn't specific there... Now that I think about it, I'll go and edit that in to the last chapter. Australia and New Zealand may well have been on the beach at that time, as there were other students around; I didn't specify because I wanted to focus on Arthur seeing the Nordics together. I won't give anything away, but it's likely they'll make an appearance at some stage.

-**Tanglepelt: **Thanks for reviewing!

-**Zephyrbolt: **Thanks, I'm glad to hear! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

* * *

_**IX.**_

As Konstantin passed the boys' common room, he could hear Vietnam's voice through the ajar door.

"Even if the storm passes over, don't leave the building under _any _circumstances." She was saying.

He didn't hang around to listen to any retorts or complaints from the students inside. He knew there would be some. There always was. Even though there wasn't much outside of their dorm building except for the girls' side of the quad, the library and the sports area, unless they had anything else to be doing. They just didn't like having their freedom taken away, he supposed... There was yet another one of those sinking feelings in his stomach, then, as he realised the consequences of what had happened to him and Jovan. There would be another lockdown now, for sure; most likely starting immediately. It could be shorter than the last one, seeing as how none of the students were shot fatally, but on the other hand, it was the second time the rogues had targeted delegates from the Academy. It was almost as if they had _waited _for the first lockdown to be over so they could strike again... But, then, why didn't they go straight for the students in the town? Konstantin didn't think it was to conceal anything... _No_, those rogues weren't trying to murder at random...

...On the other hand, they were the ones who ended up getting massacred. Konstantin hadn't been taught to kill. No one was taught _that_ specifically at the Academy... That came at the training facility, if at all. Nobody would know until they crossed over, he supposed. He hadn't even been taught to fight without a weapon; that was something he'd picked up from his brawls with Jovan. But, it was starting to sink in, as he made his way down the corridor to his dorm room. His mind had been on many, many other things beforehand. Surviving. Keeping Jovan safe. All those had taken priority over the fact that he had actually _killed_ that day.

_'I think we... We do what we're supposed to do.'_ He had said. The rogues had surrounded them, and held them at gunpoint, and had shot at them when they stood to fight, so it was self-defence, and not a mindless killing. But it had been a killing all the same, justified or not.

He didn't think he ever wanted to go through it again.

The door to the dorm room was unlocked, and he pushed the handle down with the back of his wrist, so as not to leave dirt or blood on it. As expected, the quivering lump that was almost certainly Aurel was beneath the sheets of the bed on the right side of the room. Konstantin found that strangely comforting to see. He shut the door with his elbow again, and walked straight towards the bathroom.

"Aurel?" He muttered, trying to sound as calm and collected as he could, after what had just happened. He didn't want to worry the younger student, especially whilst the storm was still raging on outside. For a few moments, he paused, awaiting a reply from the lump... But none came. "I'll..." He shrugged the blanked Vietnam had given him off his shoulders, leaving it by the foot of his bed. "I'll be with you in a little while, okay?"

No answer, again. He sighed, and made his way to the bathroom, thankful of finally being able to peel off his damp, dirty clothes. The hot water from the shower felt like a Godsend, and he spent much longer than he usually would just standing beneath it, letting the heat ease his aching muscles. He knew his legs would hurt like Hell until the following week at least, though.

It was hard to spend the rest of the time cleaning off not thinking about Jovan. If anyone had asked him earlier that day – before they'd set out on their unfortunate escapade – if he'd give a damn if Jovan was beaten senseless and left for dead in the middle of the woodland, he'd have told them no... Out of stubbornness, anyway. Jovan would probably have said the same thing had he been asked if he'd give a damn about Konstantin in that situation. It was kind of laughable how much their rivalry had gone to their heads that they would say things like that, when deep down they would never mean it... At least, _Konstantin_ wouldn't mean it. It was laughable, and sad. But it also made him wonder... Were Konstantin the one that had been shot, would Jovan have carried him to the Academy on his back or in his arms? It hurt to imagine Jovan was really callous enough to abandon him out there and save himself, had their places been switched. But, that would have been very possible, in Konstantin's mind. Jovan would have eventually shrugged the guilt off without a care in the world, were the guilt even there at all.

He checked the gauge on the device on his arm, before drying off. A considerable amount of the drug had been drained, but not enough for him to warrant topping it up again. He then walked back out of the bathroom. Aurel hadn't moved, as he expected, but he put on some clean clothes as quickly as he could just in case, throwing his old ones underneath the bed. He'd get them washed tomorrow. By then the story would have spread across the school – it was pointless keeping something like that hushed; the murder of the last England certainly hadn't been kept under wraps – and he wouldn't have to explain the blood to anyone.

Then, he sat down next to the lump in the sheets, finding it very hard not to lie down and cling to Aurel like there was no tomorrow.

It was too early to sleep. The clock on his night stand told him it was almost three in the afternoon. It had felt like much later, but the dark skies probably didn't help, there. He hoped that he could see Jovan by the end of the day, even if he wasn't conscious. For now, though, he put that thought to one side.

"...Aurel?" He spoke up again.

Still, no response was given, though he could see him shaking beneath the covers. He was perhaps sleeping; Aurel did sometimes tremble in his sleep when there was a storm. Konstantin wondered if he would be doing the same tonight. He was going to wake him up, when a knock came at the door. He'd half expected someone would come to question him about what had happened. Opening the door, he found Vietnam stood there.

"The Vice Principal wants to see you in his office." She told him. "He expects you there now."

Konstantin glanced back at Aurel's outline, before stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door. "Did he say exactly what it was about?" The answer was obvious, although there was still a possibility that the Vice Principal would have been more concerned about Konstantin's drug levels than the incident in the forest.

Vietnam gave him a wry look, but answered anyway. "No, he just said to be quick about it."

She escorted him down the steps and out of the dorm building. They hurried to get across the quad. When he was sure they were out of earshot of any other students, he felt the need to ask, "Is Jovan okay?"

"I haven't been told anything. The infirmary's closed off, and medics arrived from the town not long after he was taken in."

"Are they still there?" That would give him a slight glint of hope, at the very least.

"I'm sure they are. No one's left the infirmary since then."

The foyer was empty, save for Greece's mother and a burly tanned man with dreadlocks dressed in blue overalls that Konstantin recognised from the back as Cuba, the caretaker, the two of whom were setting up mops and a bucket to begin to clear up the dirt dragged in onto the marble floor. Vietnam lead him up the wide staircase above the front desk, and down the corridor with the picture hangings, all the while staying as silent as the rest of the building seemed to be. Konstantin had never liked the area outside of the Vice Principal's office. It was always eerily quiet, and overly clean and white, like it had purposefully been made to look like a hospital, despite the fact the infirmary was on the lower level. But that made enough sense; one of the rooms in the area was used for the grafting, checking and modifying of devices for students ready to cross over. Of course, that fact was a secret, exclusive to the staff and those particular students. Konstantin didn't know why, but perhaps it was a way of keeping the younger students' minds at ease until their times would come. The idea of having a metal gauging system fixed to one's arm sounded formidable on paper; they also looked like props taken straight out of a robotic science fiction movie. What was even weirder was the man in full body armour that fixed it to a student's arm. Until someone went through with the process, it was hard to know what the device fitting was like.

Konstantin didn't have to sit in the waiting room. Vice Principal Germania called him straight through to his office. Vietnam left the scene again before he'd done so.

He'd been inside the room plenty of times, so the strange old-worldly ornaments weren't really of much interest to him. He sat at the desk when the tall blonde man instructed him to do so. Konstantin had always thought the Vice Principal was a 'pretty cool guy', as he had said once. He liked the strange artefacts in his room, and the fact that he walked around school in armour and was generally intimidating to most students, but right now his mind was too occupied with the matters at hand to care about any of that.

"I require a statement from you." The Vice Principal got to the point straight away, taking the larger seat opposite him. "China informs me you weren't injured."

Konstantin had thought it might have been a statement that he wanted from him. He didn't particularly feel like repeating the story over, but he knew it was necessary. "I'm not." He replied.

The Vice Principal opened a small pot of ink on his desk and picked up the long quill set next to it. It never looked right for him to use a quill and ink whilst wearing that ancient-looking armour, but when did _anything _look like it was in the right place around this side of the school? He gave Konstantin a stern frown, and spoke again, "Begin. Tell me what happened, starting from when you left the Academy grounds."

Konstantin shrunk uncomfortably into his seat, trying to recall the events in his head. "Er... Well, Jova-" He came to a halt for a second, before correcting himself. "..._Serbia _and I left the north gates at about ten this morning. He asked if we could take the 'scenic route'." He glanced at the Vice Principal's near-glowering face. "He meant the old off-road track we used to take to the town when we were younger."

Germania interjected, starting to write all of this down with the quill, "We found a bottle of alcohol in Serbia's clothing."

Konstantin had almost forgotten about that. _'That idiot!' _He exclaimed inwardly. "Er, yeah... He said he had it stashed away." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I told him it would block the drug, but he said he didn't care."

"You had none of it?"

"No. None." He answered quickly.

Germania gave a slow nod. "Go on."

He took another moment to remember where he was in his story. "We must've taken a wrong turn on the way there, or something, because we ended up lost. Anyway, we sat down for a few moments to rest and then those rogues just..." He shrugged. "Popped up."

"Where was this?"

Konstantin thought he'd clarified. "Ehh... It was in an area of the island I've never seen before. I think it was near a cliff edge. There were lots of rocks around."

The Vice Principal peered up from his paper after writing that part down. "Was there anything else in sight apart from the trees and rocks?"

"No." He replied, a bit unsure of why that had been asked. "Well, not until the rest of the rogues appeared."

"You are sure they were the rogues?"

"I'm sure... I remember the description from what happened with England."

Germania frowned a little more, dipping his quill in the ink again. "Go on."

"They er... Surrounded us, and we... Y'know..." Konstantin's voice trailed off a bit, his shoulders sinking. "...Weren't really left with much of a choice but to fight back."

"And that was when Serbia was shot?"

"Not right then. We took what we thought was all of them down... It was pretty terrifying, especially since Serbia was on alcohol at the time." Recalling the fight, Konstantin's eyes trailed down to the desk in front of him. "We managed it, but another had been in hiding at the time. He shot Serbia when our guard was down."

Germania didn't seem to be acting like there had just been a shooting on the island, which was normal enough for him. China and India would be the ones running around sorting everything out. The Vice Principal's expression hardly ever seemed to change as he continued to write the statement down, the scratching of the quill against the paper the only noise in the room after Konstantin had ended his sentence. Then again, he always wore that stern scowl. It was difficult to tell what his thoughts at the moment were... It was easy to tell even after what could be described as an 'in-depth' conversation with Germania – though by anyone else's standards, it wouldn't have been in-depth at all – that he favoured a fighting spirit. Which was probably for the best, seeing as how he oversaw crossing over. But Konstantin couldn't help but wonder anyway... Was he glad that he and Jovan had fought back? Or did he think them to be stupid and reckless for it?

He gave no sign of an answer to these questions. When he was done writing, he looked straight back across the desk. "Go on." He said again.

"I took care of that guy... Er, that is to say, he was still firing, so I grabbed a gun and... Shot him." Konstantin shifted in his seat. Regardless of it being self-defence, there was still a twinge of guilt he felt when thinking about it. "He'd hit Jo... _Serbia_ in the leg, which wouldn't have happened, were he not drinking... I guess." His eyes darted up and down between the desk and the Vice Principal. "We were still lost, anyway, so er... It took me a while to get us both back here. I gave Serbia the gun to hold on to, but he passed out not long before we returned."

Germania continued writing again. He set the quill down afterwards, and folded his hands on the edge of the desk. "You and Serbia have had several violent disagreements in the past. You understand that until he rouses from unconsciousness – if at all – that you may be held responsible on this basis."

Konstantin jumped alertly and looked straight at the Vice Principal, his mouth gaping. Did that mean what he thought it meant. "Wha... What!?"

"It is unlikely, but your rivalry with Serbia will be taken into consideration during the investigation. The idea that you yourself shot him will not be written off until it is proven he was shot by a rogue."

There was the sinking feeling in Konstantin's stomach... But it was worse than before. It felt like he'd been punched there... He felt _sick_. That hypothesis should have been tossed aside right off the bat. What kind of person would shoot someone in the leg and then carry them all the way across an island to safety!? The evidence was in his favour, of course... Someone would find the bodies of the rogues, and he was pretty sure Jovan would be at least willing to tell the truth when he gave his own statement. Konstantin lowered his gaze back down to the desk, frowning.

"..._Right_." He muttered, sounding aggravated.

"Good. That is all. You are dismissed until further investigations have been carried out. Remain inside your dorm building until you're told otherwise."

Konstantin got out of his seat.

"And Bulgaria?" Germania said, remaining as still as before, though his eyes continued to follow him.

"...Yeah?"

"Do not speak of this to the other students."

Konstantin didn't know how possible that was going to be.

* * *

They were let out of their dorm buildings at five PM. A lot of the students went for dinner then, but Arthur decided to avoid the rush and go to the library beforehand. He had research to do, and it helped that the library was near empty at this time. The storm hadn't weakened, and he had to put on the raincoat he had packed in his suitcase (that he didn't think he'd need so early after arriving at the Academy). After running and squelching through the downpour, he hung up his coat on the stand inside the library doorway and wiped his feet thoroughly, hoping he didn't drag in too much muck.

He didn't begin straight away. First, he had to find a starting point... However, he didn't want to ask the librarian where any school archives might have been. He didn't want to raise any suspicion, especially not straight away. This meant he had to do the digging himself. If he couldn't find anything, there was a chance the archives were being kept elsewhere, perhaps in or around the Principal's or Vice Principal's offices. Trial and error was his best shot.

It was unfortunate that it didn't work as well as he thought it might have.

Milling around for longer than he perhaps should have, never taking a book out to read anything of it further than the back cover; unintentionally looking suspicious – or, so he thought, he was eventually called out whilst examining a book entitled 'The History of the United Nations'.

"Ah, excuse me?" A quiet voice spoke up near him. Arthur turned to face a blond boy, a little shorter than himself, whom he recognised from his Advanced Mathematics class. He wore a wiry pair of glasses and an almost meek smile. "I can't help but notice you look a little... Lost?"

Arthur didn't think he looked 'lost', but he understood what he had meant. "Erm... Well, I'm not really." He replied.

"You've been looking for U.N.-related books since you came in." The boy adjusted his glasses a bit. "Perhaps I can help you with that?"

Arthur winced inwardly at what he said... Had he been watching him that entire time? How hadn't he noticed that? Slightly unnerved, he coughed, and replied. "I'm actually looking for... More information about this school. I'm..." He needed to make a quick excuse. "Well, I'm a new student, as you probably know, and I wasn't fully enlightened on... Certain topics."

He hoped perhaps the boy wouldn't notice the slight pause he took to think there. However, he smiled and nodded in response to Arthur. "I see. That's easy enough to fix. You just need to access the Academy Intranet."

"The what, now?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow.

The boy coughed. "Ah, you don't know. Right." He glanced around for a few moments. "The Academy Intranet is the school's internet and computer system. It... Well. Allow me to show you."

He walked on, and motioned for Arthur to follow him. He lead him to a small room off the side of the library, marked with a plaque outside the doorway that read 'computer suite'. It was empty, but there were two long rows of sleek-looking computers at either side.

"Are you particularly good with computers, England?" The boy asked, taking a seat at one. "Ah, I'm sorry, I don't think we've met properly. I'm Estonia... Better known as Eduard, among other students."

Arthur stood behind where he had sat. "Erm, I'm alright, I suppose." He replied. "And call me Arthur."

"Alright, Arthur. The Intranet is usually an internal computer network. As you probably know, the island is secured with many precautions to prevent general detection by unwanted parties. It is a secret project within the U.N., after all." Eduard explained, whilst he switched the computer on. The machine whirred, and the screen lit up.

"...'Unwanted parties'?" Arthur enquired, thinking instantly of those protesters Elise had told him about. It did seem odd that they had detected an island that was secured and apparently undetectable.

"Oh, yes. Anyone opposed to the Academy's purpose could turn up here were it not."

There was something Arthur didn't like about the way Eduard had said that. "...Oh. Really? Because I was under the impression that had happened here already..." Arthur said, figuring he would know which incident he was talking about.

Eduard's blue eyes shifted towards Arthur nervously. "...Oh. Today, you mean?"

Today? Arthur hadn't been aware of anything happening that day... That was worrying. Had something gone on at the school? Perhaps whilst he was at the town? Maybe that was why they had been told to stay in their dorm buildings. Arthur hadn't really minded much; it meant he could read a little more of his book before heading out to the library.

He shook his head. "No, I meant a month ago."

"Ah, of course..." Eduard said, looking straight back at the computer screen. "Well, nobody's quite sure about that..." He began to tap at the keyboard, his strokes very quick and brisk. Arthur didn't think he'd ever seen anyone type so fast. "Anyway, here you are."

On screen was a blue banner that read 'ACADEMY INTRANET' across the top. There were several links listed underneath.

"Is there anything specific you were looking for?" Eduard enquired.

Arthur didn't want to reveal his intentions, so he scanned down the list of links for a few moments... _School project research_, _Timetables_, _Academy bulletins_, _Staff area_... There didn't seem to be much of use.

"Is that it?" He asked. "There's no... Archives of any sort?"

"Oh." Eduard adjusted his glasses again. "I think I know what you're looking for. Yes, of course there is. They're under the Staff area, however." He smiled, but lowered his voice. "That's not a problem, however, so long as you use the password."

Eduard moved the computer mouse and clicked onto the link labelled _Staff area_. When it asked for a password, he typed something in. It allowed him through.

"The password is '23oy63djw2784b'. I could perhaps write it down for you, if you need it for future reference."

"Oh. Erm. Good. How did you find that password out?" Arthur was a bit sceptical. For someone who knew the staff password, Eduard didn't seem at all secretive about it.

"I was given it by Mr. China... Ah, perhaps I shouldn't have given it to you, then." His smile became sheepish. "Then again, I'm sure I'm not the only one in the know."

Eduard got out of the seat and offered it to Arthur.

"I have a little bit of research to do, myself. I'll be across the room if you need any help."

He scurried towards the computer directly across from the one Arthur then took the seat at. It had been a little while since Arthur had last used a computer, but it wasn't difficult to navigate the intranet, despite how easy Eduard had made it look. It was nice that Eduard had helped him, he supposed, but his suspicions were roused all the same... There was something odd about his mannerisms; it seemed very strange how easy it was to access the archives... But Arthur didn't think that was exactly why he was getting a strange vibe from the boy.

However, once he'd found a relevant page, his mind went back to that. By clicking a link labelled 'archives', and further clicking 'project timeline and information', he came across a long series of notes.

**The United Nations Academy Project Files**

**x Day, x month, x year**

_Under the supervision of the U.N. Secretary-General, the Academy sector was formed. Many high-ranked members of the Giga Neuro project made up the original sector. _

**x Day, x month, x year**

_The leader of the Academy sector, Clinton Pane, was appointed by a general vote._

**x Day, x month, x year**

_The island in the central Atlantic was purchased by the Academy sector. The island was given the name Pangaea, and henceforth belonged to the U.N. territorially._

**x Day, x month, x year**

_Construction on the Academy and the town commenced._

**x Day, x month, x year**

_The sudden death of Clinton Pane called for a new election. Maximus Marcus Vargas was appointed in his place._

This didn't seem to be exactly what Arthur was looking for, but he kept reading nonetheless.

**x Day, x month, x year**

_100 volunteers were selected to create a town populace._

**x Day, x month, x year**

_The first delegates of the Academy are chosen from the data collected worldwide by the Giga Neuro project. Each delegate must meet the standard criteria to be selected._

Arthur tried to remember what the 'standard criteria' was. The school was for the exceptionally gifted, which meant they had to have an IQ of a certain level. They were also usually, but not in all cases, orphaned children. Arthur didn't understand why this had to be, for them to have to have that near-superhuman standard of IQ – which, to be perfectly honest, he hadn't seen much demonstration of – to be processed into a soldier. He racked his brain trying to think of an answer to that. Oh, sure, he was smart. He knew that much, otherwise he wouldn't have been chosen by the Academy. Perhaps that was why he didn't notice. For once in his life, he found studying a challenge. Not an unpleasant challenge, but at his compulsory schooling in London, it had all been too easy for him. That, and he'd felt out of place among the other kids... At the Academy, he felt like he'd fit in much better. That was what the Vice Principal had said was the intention of the school, right? He had also said that their minds were the only ones that could handle the intensity of the training that took place after 'Progressive Graduation', or 'crossing over'. But why was that? And why was it so necessary to pluck these over-intelligent children out of their lives and place them into an Academy where they were inevitably going to become 'peacekeeping weapons' for the U.N.'s use?

Arthur thought that perhaps he might find some answers if he looked in to this 'Giga Neuro project'. He decided to use the intranet's search bar to look for it... Unfortunately, it seemed to turn up with no results. Frowning at this, he turned his head over his shoulder to where Eduard was tapping away at his keyboard. He paid no attention to his screen; it was white with blocks of text that he couldn't read from that distance, so he figured was probably just some kind of essay for a class.

"Erm... Excuse me, Eduard?" He asked.

Eduard took a couple of moments longer to finish what he was typing, before looking back towards Arthur. "Yes? What is it?"

He had a feeling his snooping might become obvious if he admitted to wanting to know about the Giga Neuro project; regardless, Eduard had seemed quite happy to help him before, so he assumed it would be worth a shot. "Do you happen to know anything about the 'Giga Neuro project'? I can't seem to find anything about it on here."

Eduard pushed his glasses up off the tip of his nose, seeming to pause for a second; perhaps in thought. "Oh... I'm afraid I don't."

"Ah... Alright..." Arthur glanced back at the computer screen once, though something was tugging at him about the way Eduard had replied to him, there. His mind was almost telling him not to believe him... But Arthur decided to take his word for it, regardless. If he didn't know, he didn't know. "I'm done, then... I think."

"Ah, do make sure to switch it off before you go, then." Eduard smiled. "It wouldn't do to leave the intranet logged in to the Staff area."

Arthur didn't think it mattered; Eduard was certainly willing enough to give him the password, after all. What was it to him if someone else found the Staff area logged in?

"No, I suppose not. _Anyone _could have access to it, then..." He muttered, trying to get the sarcasm across to the other student, hoping he would take the hint. It wasn't that he was ungrateful that Eduard had helped him; no, far from it. The Giga Neuro project was something that had only come up on that page he had just been reading through; without Eduard's help, he wouldn't have had that lead. All the same, he couldn't help but wonder _why _Eduard had been so... Helpful.

"Exactly." Eduard replied. Arthur couldn't tell if he'd realised the sarcastic undertone or not.

He turned the computer off and got out of his seat, deciding he would leave Eduard to whatever research of his own he was doing. He thought it might be a good idea to leave the library for today, and come back tomorrow to perhaps find something on paper about the Giga Neuro project. If it wasn't in the library, there might well have been something in one of the staff's offices about it. It was either incredibly secretive, or incredibly irrelevant, but all the same, the Vice Principal might have had something tucked away in one of his cabinets... Arthur did hope it wouldn't come to that, though.

"Erm... Thank you, anyway." Arthur said. "But, I do have a question."

Eduard looked up at him again. "Yes?"

"You're... Quite eager to help me." Arthur lowered his volume. "Particularly since you allowed me to look into the Staff area... Why?"

Looking flawed for a second, Eduard's smile disappeared. He appeared to take another moment to think, before answering. "Ah... That's because the old England asked me to."

This was just getting stranger, and stranger. Arthur felt the same as he had that morning, when Elise had first told him of the old England's death... It suddenly began to seem as if there was a weight of sorts on his shoulders. His eyebrows raised, he gave Eduard a long stare. The younger boy simply curled his lips upwards once more in response.

"He... He did?" Arthur stammered a little.

Before he could ask why, Eduard nodded. "He did. Oh, before you go, let me give you the password."

Arthur couldn't think why the old England would have wanted to help Arthur. It brought up too many more questions... Did he know he was going to die? Did he know Arthur was going to want to know about the greater details of the Academy? Did he expect Arthur to finish his business?

"What did he tell you?" Arthur lowered his tone again, as Eduard found a piece of scrap paper nearby and began to write. He tried not to sound frantic, nor did he want to blurt the question out, but he couldn't help it.

"...Oh, nothing, really." Eduard was insouciant about his answer. "He helped me out a few times. Greatly helped me, in fact. When I asked how I could repay him, he just asked that after he crossed over, I give the next England as much help as he gave to me." He folded up the piece of paper and handed it over to Arthur.

He muttered a quick 'thank you'. "I see..." That made it sound all the more like the previous England wanted his replacement delegate to continue his work. "But why would he want that?"

Eduard shrugged. "I can't say I know."

The pieces seemed to fit, though Arthur still knew very little about the other England. There was nothing contradictory about what Eduard had said; all the same, he couldn't help but feel that _something _was off. He thanked the Estonian student again, bid him goodbye and left him to his work. He didn't dawdle. He walked back through the library, the folded up piece of paper with the code on it stuffed into his pocket, and to the front doors to collect his raincoat. The storm was still unrelenting, but he was prepared to brave it, anyway. He hadn't eaten since the ice cream earlier on, and he thought that perhaps getting something into his empty stomach might take his mind off of that bizarre weight he was beginning to feel from all these revelations. _Perhaps_.

* * *

Konstantin returned to the boys' dorm building after leaving the Vice Principal's office. His plan was to go straight back to his room and ask Aurel if he wanted anything bringing up for dinner when they were all allowed back out, since it was highly unlikely he would venture into the storm for something to eat. He was tired and hungry himself; his legs feeling dead by the time he'd got back to their room again and settled on the bed next to the Aurel lump. He'd heard the muffled voices of other students behind the closed common room doors, but had decided against entering. Avoiding the masses would be the best chance he had of keeping to his word about not speaking of the day's events... Not that it was going to remain a secret for very long, either way. England's death certainly hadn't. This matter was different, anyway. No one had died... _Yet_. There was still a chance that Jovan could lose his life. A small chance, Konstantin thought, but a chance nonetheless.

He pressed his hand onto the top of the sheets and shook Aurel gently to wake him up. There was a boom of thunder, and a flash of lightning, and the lump flinched.

"Wh..._aaa_?" Came the muffled squeal.

Konstantin gave a weak smile. After having believed he might never have heard Aurel's voice again that day, it was more than just nice to finally hear him at least make some kind of responsive noise. He lowered his forehead onto the arch of what he assumed was Aurel's back, exhaling through his nose.

"You... Shouldn't be sleeping, at this time of the day." He replied. All his relief had poured out once he'd crossed the threshold between the woodland road and the Academy grounds – the threshold between the lingering danger that had threatened his life, and safety – but until he'd actually been able to _touch_ Aurel, he hadn't felt like he was really _home_. Vietnam had interrupted last time, and the feeling hadn't been apparent because of it. He hoped the same thing wouldn't happen again now.

"Wh... What else do you expect me to do?" Aurel's voice shook. He sounded as if he'd been the one that had faced gunpoint that day.

Konstantin's hands wrung in the sheets, and he fought to keep his own tone of voice steady. "I expect you to come out here to see me."

He could tell Aurel was sceptical. He thought of Konstantin's bed as the only safe haven from the storm. He wouldn't normally poke his head out unless he had a good reason to. "Why don't... You come under?" He asked after a short pause.

The thunder and lightning struck again, and his body jerked, causing Konstantin to lift his head a bit.

"Because I'll want to go to sleep, if I lie down." He was drained of energy, but he knew he needed to eat something before letting himself pass out.

Aurel said nothing for a few moments longer, before he asked, "Can you shut the curtains and turn on the light, at least?"

Konstantin got up to do so, having not realised how dark it actually was in the room at the time. Once he'd switched on the light on his night stand, the sheets shifted about, and Aurel's tired face poked out from beneath them, frowning. They merely stared at each other, then; Aurel's expression beginning to melt away into more of a confused look. Konstantin could tell what he was thinking: _'why is he staring? Why isn't he saying anything?'_

The truth was, he didn't know what to do, or say. There had been very few moments in Konstantin's life where he felt like he could break down into tears. This was one of them. After having spent the day believing there was every chance he could have died; that he might have never seen Aurel's face again, to then look into his eyes and know he was _there_, made him want to cry. Regardless, he swallowed down the lump in his throat and smiled, dropping to his knees by the side of the bed and reaching out to touch the other boy's cheek with the tips of his fingers. Aurel jumped, but didn't lurch his head away fully.

"Kosta..." He muttered, his red eyes flickering; examining his countenance. Konstantin didn't know exactly what he looked like at the moment, but he was sure that if anyone could tell he was just putting on a brave face, it was Aurel.

He said nothing in response. Konstantin's hands were callous and blistered from years of Archery and Woodwork, and he didn't know whether that was the reason Aurel's face felt so soft and lukewarm, but nor did he care. To touch him – perhaps just to know he was really there, and that this wasn't some kind of dream and that he really wasn't dead after all, _just to be sure_ – was all he wanted. It was all he needed.

Aurel's lips parted, and his gaze trailed down towards Konstantin's hand. "What happened?" He breathed out, still shaking a little.

The backs of Konstantin's eyes were burning, and so he shut them. "It's a long story."

"Tell me anyway."

Aurel was his best friend; he knew he could see through his façade, and he didn't like to lie to him. But nor did he feel up to telling him what had happened... Not just yet.

"Not now." Konstantin leant his chin on the edge of the mattress, starting to stroke at his skin gently with the pad of his thumb. "Not while you're like this." It would be bad to give him more reason to be upset on a day like today.

"Kosta." Aurel said more forcefully, beginning to sit up. He removed the hand that was touching his face and set it down on the bed. "Please?"

Konstantin stood, exhaling again. "No." He reinforced his smile. "_Not now_."

He reached over and ruffled Aurel's hair, causing the other to snap his head away, this time.

"Don't!" He raised his voice. "I am not a child! I don't need you to coddle me!"

On cue, the thunder banged outside, and a flash of lightning pooled from behind the curtains. Aurel instantly pulled the sheets back over his head, emitting a sharp wail.

Once it had died back down, leaving only the wind to howl at the window, Konstantin gave another exhale. "I'm going downstairs until we're allowed out. I'll get you something to eat, okay?"

There was no reply from the quivering lump. Aurel was probably angry at him now, he figured, which made him feel bad. He didn't need that right now, though he knew it would blow over by the end of the day.

"Sorry." Konstantin muttered, putting his hand on the lump again.

No response again. He walked over to the door and left the room.

Konstantin half-expected to be bombarded with questions as soon as he entered the common room. Thankfully, he was only approached by Francis, when he'd taken a free seat inside.

"_Bonjour, _Kosta." He greeted Konstantin, walking over and leaning against the side of his armchair. Francis and Konstantin had never been the definition of 'best friends', with Francis being part of the trio that also consisted of Antonio and Gilbert (the two of whom were at a window across the room, Gilbert's remarkable white hair making them both identifiable, most likely engaged in watching raindrops race each other down the glass and probably betting Allowance chips on them), rather than having much to do with Konstantin's own circle of friends. Even so, they'd all been at the Academy for roughly four years now, and any of the seniors that had started out as freshmen were generally on good terms, at least – with a few exceptions, of course. Konstantin and Svetlana got along well with all three of them; Jovan was a different matter.

"Hey." Konstantin tried not to sound as dejected as he was, slumped in his seat.

"I did not see you in town today. Were you busy?" Francis asked, offering him a smile.

He gave a heavy sigh, raking a hand backwards through his hair. "You could say that, I guess."

"You look very tired. Were you catching up on your sleep?" Konstantin wished that were the case. Francis's smile suddenly spread further, becoming a little more guileful, and he quietened his voice. "Did Aurel keep you awake for too long last night, _mon ami_?"

He didn't understand what he meant, at first, and he simply raised an eyebrow at the Frenchman. When it hit him, he scowled, and was sorely tempted to shove him off the arm of the seat.

"Fucking hell, Francis! Do you really think we're like that!?" He was angry that Francis could joke around after what had happened, but then again, there was hardly any way he could have known about it yet. Besides, the Vice Principal had told Konstantin not to tell anyone of the other students about what had happened. He decided to try and act like nothing was wrong, at that time; letting Francis think that he was just tired was good enough.

Francis's eyelids raised in surprise, and he over-dramatised his answer. "You mean to tell me you are not? Good grief, you certainly had me fooled."

Konstantin bit the inside of his lip, remembering how he had just touched his hand to Aurel's face in a more than friendly manner. He had wanted to do it to make sure Aurel was really there, in a way; and to make sure that _he _was really there himself, he supposed... But then, why Aurel? He felt his face heating up, and he frowned heavily. This wasn't a good day to be discussing his relationship with the younger student with Francis.

"It is alright, _mon ami_. You needn't be embarrassed about it." Francis reached over and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I will not tell anyone."

Konstantin wasn't just physically, but emotionally drained that day. Part of him felt like he should be disgusted at the accusations Francis was making... But he wasn't. He didn't even have the energy to properly lash out at him for it.

"You're missing the point entirely." He grumbled, leaning forward and rubbing at his eyes with his hands.

He could feel Francis's simper on the back of his neck. "What point would that be?"

"We're not... _Like that_." He replied, adding mentally, _'And I got shot at no less than twenty times today, get off my Goddamn back'_.

Francis gave a slight snort. Konstantin was well aware he didn't believe him. "Alright, if you say so. But you know, if you ever were in need of advice in the ways of _l'amour_, you are welcome to-"

"_Francis_."

"_Oui_?"

"_Shut up_."

He remembered saying the same thing to Jovan back in the forest, which didn't help his mood at all. Luckily, Francis seemed to shrug the abrasion off.

"Very well, _mon ami_. But my offer is still there, should you need it."

Francis slid off the armchair and back over to Antonio and Gilbert, leaving Konstantin doubting himself, and hoping the other students around were minding their own business and didn't listen in on their conversation. It seemed like quite a while passed before Vietnam came back to the common room doors, but Konstantin thought that perhaps time was going by more slowly for him, for some reason. Perhaps it was because of the looming darkness outside. It almost felt like the day wasn't going to end at all.

Everyone came to a hushed state as soon as Vietnam walked in, all heads turning towards her.

"You're all allowed out now-" She was cut off by the sound of chairs scraping back, a handful of people ready to leave the dorm buildings, probably for dinner. She became visibly angered by this. "But don't all pile out at once!"

Konstantin half expected China to at least have come by to explain what had happened, and why they were being kept inside in the first place, but that seemed to be the end of it. Vietnam glanced over at him once, before she stepped away from the doors to allow the sudden wave of students wanting to brave the storm for dinner past. He decided it would be best to get up and go, too. Even though it would be busy in the cafeteria, at least not _everyone_ would be going at the same time.

Though, in actuality, when he got to the cafeteria, he found the queue to be twice as bad as he'd expected. _Of course_. The girls would have been allowed out, too. There was some frantic muttering amongst those who hadn't seen their female or male friends for an hour or so and were congregating in the cafeteria, the main topic of discussion seeming to be exactly why it had happened. No fingers happened to be pointed at Konstantin at that time, which was lucky enough for him, since he'd been told not to explain the situation. Lucky, yes, but at the same time, it was a little surreal for them to all be going about, thinking everything was normal, after what had happened to him and Jovan that day... Perhaps a little _too _surreal. When he eventually came face-to-face with the food, he found himself not as hungry as his stomach had initially told him he was. He couldn't understand why. He settled on just a pot of yogurt. Yogurt was his favourite foodstuff, and even if he couldn't stomach anything else, he'd be able to eat that easily; though, he knew it was too light, and that he'd probably regret not eating a proper meal later. He got a few candy bars for Aurel, too, which he shoved into one of his pockets.

He found a spare seat and sat alone. Usually he'd eat with Aurel or one of the other seniors he was friends with, but none of them seemed to be around when he'd first taken a look. After he'd peeled open the yogurt pot's lid, he was then approached by a figure that looked very familiar, even from the corner of his eye.

"Kosta?" He recognised the voice at once; feminine, docile and sickly-sweet, in a heavy accent not all too different from his own. "Have you seen Jovan?"

He didn't need to look up to know who it was. The girl was holding her hands to her chest and wringing them together, her shoulders rigid. She was worried; he didn't even need to look further than his peripheral vision to see that. Konstantin placed his spoon down and peered up at her. As expected, it was Svetlana.

"Yeah, but he's not here." Konstantin replied, turning his attention back to the yogurt. He had always felt there was still a degree of awkwardness between them, particularly when they found themselves talking with each other alone, rather than with Jovan around.

"O-Oh..." She stammered a bit, her voice going a bit quieter. She shifted her weight on her feet, but then stopped when she seemed to realise something. "Well... Maybe he's in the dorms still? I can't go in without a guy, so, would you come with me?"

Konstantin had taken the spoon in hand again, and had begun to scrape at the yogurt stuck to the pot's lid. When she asked that, he paused once again, beginning to get that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"He's not there either." He replied, as plainly as he possibly could.

Her dark eyes widened, and he realised it was obvious now that he knew where Jovan was. "Then where is he?" She asked.

Konstantin found it difficult to look directly at Svetlana for longer than a few moments. She was pretty, with her long dark hair and warm beige-coloured skin (though, he thought something looked a little off about her complexion, like it was paler than usual; he put this to the back of his mind). But there were prettier girls in the school, he thought. Natalya, Mei, Elise, Iryna... Even _Erzsébet_... It was easy to think that after a break-up, he guessed. It was probably a natural reaction, too. It wasn't anything to do with that, though. It was more the fact that their relationships with each other and with Jovan had gone downhill afterwards... Well, Konstantin's relationship with both of them had gone downhill, anyway. Their own had gone much the opposite way. Even though he held an inward bitterness towards them her about it, he was aware it would be _too _cruel to lie to her on an occasion like this, when she'd soon find out the truth anyway. She deserved to know, more than Germania or China or anyone like that did, in his opinion. He sighed, leaving the spoon in the yogurt and motioning across the table to the vacant seat there with his hand.

"Sit down." He told her, in his native tongue. Bulgarian and Macedonian being mutually intelligible, he could hold a conversation with her that wasn't in English, and unless there were any other Slavic delegates around, it would go undetected. At least that way, he could _partly _keep to his word about not telling anyone... Well, actually, it wouldn't be keeping to his word at all, but he could at least tell Svetlana not to blab about it.

She looked ill at ease, like she could already tell something bad had happened. She glanced at the seat, before sliding into it.

"I'm not really... Supposed to tell you what happened." He continued speaking in his own language, words rolling off his tongue a lot easier than they did in English, though. He stared across at her for a few moments more, before he had to break the eye contact; rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

Svetlana's eyes widened further. "S-Something happened?" She replied in Macedonian, worry beginning to become more apparent in her tone of voice. "I-Is he alright? He didn't try to jump off the top of the library again, did he?"

Konstantin wished that were the case. If it had just been Jovan doing something stupid like that, he could reel the story off with no problems. But so much more had happened, and it hadn't left him in the best state of mind, to say the least. "No, no..." He stared down at the table, wondering how to even go about beginning the explanation. "But, er... Something else happened today, and he got badly hurt. He's in the infirmary."

She was startled. "But... What, _how_? What? What happened to him, Kosta!?" She was spluttering her questions out. "And why wasn't I told? Were you there when it happened!?"

_'Was I ever...' _He thought, whilst sighing and taking the spoon in hand again. "I was, yeah." Rather than scooping any of the yogurt out, he stirred at it instead, resting his free arm down on the surface infront of him. "Remember England? The old one, not the new guy."

Svetlana was pretty bad at putting two-and-two together without it being blindingly obvious. That might have been strange, considering that the Academy only took in delegates that were of a certain high level of intelligence, but there were more students that were misleading in that respect than one would think; they would appear to be airheads – or near enough – on the outside, but were actually just as smart as the rest of them.

"Yeah, I remember him." She nodded, and when he looked back at her, her expression told him she didn't know where the conversation was going.

He gave her a wry frown, as if to get her to realise quicker. It didn't help. He exhaled through his nose, lowering his head and rubbing at his temple. "Well... It turns out the same people who shot him still have access to the island... And..." He wondered how often he was going to have to repeat this story over and over to people, in the future. He didn't like the notion of it. "...Jovan and I got lost in the woodland." His gaze shifted back up at her momentarily. She looked all the more confused, but the realisation still hadn't hit her... Or perhaps she was just waiting for him to tell it to her straight, rather than her jump to conclusions. "They... Came out of nowhere and attacked us."

He glanced back down at the yogurt, though he could see her raising her hand suddenly to cover her mouth, emitting a slight gasp. "'They'...? Surely you don't mean the protesters that-"

"Shot the last England in the head. Yes, them."

Finally seeming to have realised, Svetlana held both of her hands over her mouth, freezing in place. Konstantin stopped stirring the yogurt and looked towards her once more, feeling guilty in an instant when he saw that her eyes were filling up with tears, and she was shaking her head very slowly... He wondered if he'd been too insensitive there.

He frowned. "He's hurt, yes-" He told her, though she made shrill sobbing noise and it interrupted him. "...But not _badly_." Maybe that was a bit too general, though it was difficult to not sugarcoat it when she was clearly becoming distraught... And Jovan had said this girl wanted to cross over soon? "Er... He got shot in the leg, so..."

They fell silent, Svetlana continuing to simply shake her head in disbelief. Konstantin glanced up and down between her and the yogurt a few times, before he started to eat. She became still, which was strange; he had expected her to have burst into tears by now. And then, she slid out of her seat.

"I want to see him. They'll let me into the infirmary, won't they?" She didn't seem to want to wait around.

"Probably not..." Konstantin replied, but seeing that she wasn't sticking around to listen to his answer, he was forced to get up out of his own seat and follow her, taking the pot of yogurt with him. "Hey! Wait!"

Svetlana pivoted on her heel to face him. "Wait? Wait for _what_!? If he's not badly hurt, they'll let me see him!"

He paused, shifting awkwardly. "Eh... Well, it wasn't like he was shot anywhere vital, but..." She turned and began to move away again, and he jogged after. "_Wait_!" He didn't actually know if Jovan was in any state for visitors; for all he knew, the medics from town could still have been treating him. "Lana! _LANA_!" He called out, having to weave in and out of other students in the cafeteria, whereas Svetlana seemed to be walking straight through without much of a problem.

She stopped at the cafeteria doors again, staring back at him, expecting him to continue his explanation.

"Listen... We can go, and we can try, but there's no guarantee that he'll be well enough."

"Why not!?" Her lip was starting to quiver, though she was scowling, as if she were trying to keep her emotions bottled up. "You said he was only shot in the leg. But that doesn't make me any less worried!"

"I know, I know." He gave a heavy sigh. "But the shot wound's not the extent of the damage."

They walked together across the quad, and on the way there, he told her the story from the beginning; about how Jovan had come to him wanting to make amends (though he said nothing about his drinking, at first), and about how they'd got lost and how the gunmen had appeared from nowhere. By the time they had reached the infirmary doors, and he'd finished telling her about the journey back to the Academy, Svetlana looked a lot more upset than before. Konstantin was pretty sure those were tear streaks on her face, and not raindrops.

"Blood loss..." She muttered.

"Possibly shock." Konstantin scraped at the last of the yogurt in the pot.

"But... Why? He's faster than you!" She was getting frantic again. "Why did _he_ get shot?"

He didn't know whether she was asking that as a practical question, or whether she was stating that she wished he'd been shot instead of Jovan... He had a feeling it might have been both. Knowing that he had to keep the drug and the device still a secret, at least, he was about to formulate some kind of answer, just chalking it up to the alcohol, when China came through the infirmary doors.

"What you two doing here?" He asked quickly, interrupting Konstantin's answer.

Svetlana rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. Konstantin looked at her, and then at China, before responding, in English, "Macedonia wanted to see Serbia..." He gave her a very brief sidelong glance. "...If that's possible."

China shook his head. "No visitors until tomorrow, aru." He folded his arms into his sleeves, staring intently at Konstantin. "He need rest. So do you."

"Wh-What time tomorrow?" Svetlana sniffled, speaking in English again, too. "Can I come early?"

"I suppose, aru." China nodded at her. "You have to wait for him to wake up, though."

At the very least, that meant that Jovan was in somewhat of a stable condition. That was a relief.

China turned back to Konstantin, a slight frown forming on his face, and his tone lowering. "You were no supposed to tell anyone else."

Konstantin winced inwardly. "Eh, right... _Yeah_... Well, it's..." He shrugged. "...They're close, so I figured she should know."

"Hmn..." China lifted his head, squinting a bit. "...Okay, I let you off this time. You no tell anyone else. That the order from Vice Principal, yes?"

"Err... Yes."

"Good." China walked past them. "You come away from infirmary, then. It look suspicious."

Konstantin moved away, but Svetlana seemed reluctant to leave. She stared at the infirmary doors, and Konstantin had to go back to tug on her wrist – despite the fact he felt even more awkward _touching _her than just looking at her – to get her to come with him.

"Lana." He said, once he'd managed to get her towards the doors back onto the quad. He began to talk in his native language again. "Jovan was drinking, that's why he wasn't as fast as usual..." He chewed on the inside of his lip. "Kind of a pain to think about, really."

Svetlana sniffed again. "O-Oh... T-That moron! Of course, alcohol blocks the drug!"

He stopped, staring at her, surprised. "You know about the drug?"

She nodded, bringing her hands back up to her face. "Yeah..."

"H-How?" He stammered, though he was instantly brought to the assumption that Jovan must have told her about it. Perhaps she'd seen his device by accident and he'd had no other choice but to explain what it was to her... But then, why would she talking about it so openly with Konstantin? He had a unpleasant feeling he knew the answer...

There were only a few other students in the foyer, and they were clumped around Greece's mother's desk, not paying any attention to the two of them. Svetlana double-checked anyway, her red, puffy eyes scanning the area once, before she grabbed Konstantin's hand. As he had half-expected (though, it didn't shock him any less), she pressed it to the top of her left arm. As if just touching her wrist was awkward enough, touching her arm was even more uncomfortable... But, that wasn't what his mind processed first. She had a jacket on over her dress, but even so, it wasn't too difficult to feel the cold metal beneath the fabrics.

A device... It couldn't be anything else. When Jovan had said that Svetlana was planning on crossing over... He meant she was ready to do so.

"Lana..." He muttered. He let his hand drop.

"Don't say it." She gave him an attentive stare, neutralising her expression. "Don't tell me I can't. Don't give me any reasons why I can't. Just don't... Jovan's told me it all already."

He suddenly realised why her complexion looked off... It was the drug. It usually left the user's skin with a strange glow, though it was usually easier to see in sunlight, rather than artificial light. To anyone aware of this fact, it wasn't hard to pick out new users amongst the students.

"But..." He began, not sure of what to say, if she wasn't going to allow him to protest. "You're... _Lana_." He gave her an equally attentive stare back, for once, though his voice trailed off, then. "You're..." Clumsy? Caring? Sensitive? Possibly one of the most un-soldier-like people he'd ever met?

"I'm me, yeah." She seemed to force a smile onto her still slightly tear-stained face. "I'll always be me." She reached out towards him, and touched her thumb to his lips, wiping away a small smear of yogurt he hadn't realised was there. He jumped a little at the contact. "And even though you've changed since you came here, no drug or device or training will ever stop you from being you, either."

He wished he could believe that.

"I'll... See you later, Kosta." She turned towards the doors. "Come to see Jovan with me tomorrow morning, okay?"

And with that, Svetlana walked back out into the relentless wind and rain. He watched her depart for a few moments, sighing, before he chose to brave the elements himself, crossing back over the quad and towards the boys' dorm building.

He didn't even remember managing to upset Aurel earlier on. There were too many other matters on his mind. Upon entering their room, he threw the yogurt pot in the trash can near his wardrobe and then went over to his bed and shook the lump, proceeding then to slide the candy bars beneath the sheets, earning a mumble of 'thanks' in response. Aurel sat up with the sheets clung around his body and over his head, and he ate quietly, whilst Konstantin remained on the edge of the mattress, leaning over and rubbing at his eyes.

What a day that had been... It almost didn't seem like it had really happened at all.

Aurel finished the candy quickly, discarding the wrappers onto the night stand. Once he'd clambered back beneath the sheets, hiding his head again, Konstantin used what seemed to be the last of his energy to get up and dress for bed. It may have been too early to sleep, but with all that had gone on, he was completely drained. He found himself curling up beneath the covers not long after. His arms wrapped around the other boy on instinct, tighter than he had intended to. Aurel shuffled onto his side in his hold, peering upwards at him. He looked as if he was going to ask what was wrong again, for a moment, but he remained quiet, lowering his head back down and resting it on Konstantin's arm. As usual, Konstantin pulled Aurel's hat off and set it down on the night stand, before finally switching the lamp off.

"Kosta... You're clinging..." Aurel muttered, though thunder cracked outside once again and he wrapped his own fingers tightly in Konstantin's night shirt, shuddering.

"I know." He tightened his arms again. "I know... Sorry."

Konstantin rested his chin atop of Aurel's head, shutting his eyes and listening to the sound of the rain pouring down. He didn't think the other would fall asleep before he would. But, even so, he felt like tonight, he needed Aurel for comfort, just as much as Aurel needed him.

* * *

Notes:

I finally hit the 10000 word mark in a chapter... I think that's all I have to add for this'un.

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky_.


	10. X

A/N:

Probably very obvious to everyone who's been keeping tabs on the story; this took me the longest of any chapter so far. Not because it's the longest, but because I just found myself getting very bad writer's block again. As I said before, I hope this isn't permanent. I have a lot planned out for this story and I certainly hope the block doesn't get the better of me, because I really do want to write it.

-**Tanglepelt: **Thanks! I've never actually written Eduard before so I hope I'm doing okay, haha!

-**Mi3staR: **Erm, I don't know if your review is positive or negative or a mix of the two, but thanks anyway! Haha! I did notice I was making a lot of the Asian characters into teachers actually... Maybe it's because they're generally more mature than the rest? As for the BulRom scene, that was my intention entirely; for the time being, at least.

* * *

_**X.**_

The assembly was held on Sunday morning. As strange as it seemed to do so, quite a few of the students seemed to pick up on the urgency once it was announced. The news reached Arthur when he went down to the common room just before nine o'clock. Francis hadn't come back to their dorm the previous night, but after having heard the commotion throughout the dorm – mostly caused by what sounded like a drunken Gilbert – he assumed that the French delegate had stayed in his friends' dorm room (Antonio and Gilbert shared a room, and it was a couple of doors down on the opposite side of the corridor to Arthur and Francis's). Not that he cared where Francis had ended up, of course; his only complaint was that their ruckus – whether it had been in the hallway, or in the other dorm – had woken him on several occasions throughout the night. He expected it had woken other students, too. As irritating as it was to think about, he couldn't complain until he encountered Francis or Gilbert or Antonio again, and none of them were in the common room that morning.

Alfred, on the other hand, was. Although, he was splayed out on his back on one of the couches, his legs and arms spread, hogging the seating to himself; he was asleep, by the looks of it. He was snoring, and his glasses were half-hanging off his face. Had he fallen asleep there last night, Arthur wondered, or had he come down earlier that morning and just dropped back off on the couch?

He approached the sleeping American, furrowing his brow; sorely tempted to wake him up. Thankfully, a voice spoke up, catching his attention before he could do so, "Oh, hey! Arthur, is it?"

Arthur looked to a couple of stools placed behind the couch Alfred was sprawled on. Perching on top of them were Tino and Emil. Tino had had his back to the couch, and had been sat in front of Emil, so Arthur hadn't recognised them until he had moved closer and the Finnish delegate had caught his attention. He gave him an acknowledging nod.

"Yes, that's right."

"There's an assembly at ten. Mr. India came around earlier to let us all know. It seems kind of last minute, huh?" Tino said, half-smiling.

Emil wore a constant neutral expression; and when he spoke up, his tone was plain. "It must be important. It's a Sunday, after all."

"Ah... Alright. Thanks for letting me know." Arthur said, glancing back down at the slumbering mass that was Alfred for a moment. "Erm... How long's he been like this?"

"Alfred?" Tino chuckled slightly. "I don't know, half an hour, maybe? I haven't really been keeping track of time... Why?"

"We were _supposed _to be going for breakfast." Arthur grumbled. "..._Bah_. If he wakes up, do me a favour and tell him to follow me, would you?"

"Sure, no problem." Tino replied.

He and Emil went back to their conversation and Arthur left the dorm building and headed to the cafeteria. He began to wonder again what to do next... Now that he had a lead on the Giga Neuro project, he wanted to look into that specifically; however, a more pressing question lingered in his mind. He'd spent the short periods of time after being woken up by Francis and his friends (and luckily not by the storm, which had passed overnight, leaving the ground outside damp and the air with a fresh scent) thinking it all over. Who was the old England? And why exactly had he told Eduard to help Arthur? He felt like the answers to these questions were almost more important than finding out the details of the Giga Neuro project... But he also felt like there was some kind of puzzle afoot. Everything about the Academy felt farfetched; he'd thought that from the day he'd set foot inside the vast walls. It was like being in a dream... Yes, he was amongst people who were similar to him in many respects, and yes, he didn't feel alone when he was there; not nearly as alone as he had felt back in London. But he couldn't shake the feeling he'd barely begun to scratch the surface of the Academy's secrets.

He finished breakfast quickly, though he didn't think he had time to take a good look in the library before the assembly would commence. Since Alfred hadn't turned up, he decided to go straight to the auditorium, despite being around half an hour early... Now, where had Elise told him the auditorium was? Ah, that was right. Upstairs from the cafeteria.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the way to get there; the stairs up to the auditorium were labelled accordingly. After taking them, Arthur found himself in an empty corridor. He thought that was strange, expecting there to have been more students that had arrived early for the assembly... Well, he was _very _early, so he supposed that was why. The corridor seemed a lot quieter than the rest of the building, but as he walked further down, his ears pricked at a couple of voices. There were two large doors at the end of the hallway, with **'AUDITORIUM ENTRANCE' **printed above the top of the frame. The voices were coming from just behind those doors, one of which was slightly ajar. Arthur kept his distance, though he paused to listen. One of the speakers was recognisably China. It took longer for him to realise who the other was, but it clicked after a few moments more – it was the Vice Principal. Through the small opening between the doors, Arthur could see China, and it looked as if he was pinning something to the wall inside. A piece of paper, Arthur figured.

"This bad idea." China was mumbling, aggravation very notable in his voice. "Vargas will no like this."

"_He _is not present to like or dislike a decision." Germania replied lowly.

Vargas... _Vargas_... Arthur remembered reading about a Vargas yesterday, briefly. Could it have been the same person the two staff members were discussing?

"This not what project about, aru."

Germania made a deep 'hmph' sound.

"You no 'hmph' at me!" China snapped, and though he had disappeared from Arthur's view, he could picture him wagging his finger angrily at the Vice Principal. "There a reason for this project! This not it!"

Arthur wondered if he was talking about the Giga Neuro project, but it seemed more likely that he was talking about the Academy's purpose itself.

"The so-called rogues are near abysmal fighters. They are armed civilians, naught but protesters wishing to interrupt the project. Two of our most able students razed a group of twelve." Germania replied.

"And one got shot in process." China interjected.

Arthur's eyebrows raised in surprise, and he backed up a bit, leaning against the wall and continuing to listen in silence. Another student was shot? After having fought a group of the rogues? But, hadn't the rogues been eradicated from Pangaea...? As if he needed more questions to think about... However, he was certain on one thing – that must have been the reason for them having to stay in their dorm buildings the previous afternoon. He originally had thought it was because of the storm. Everyone had. But the storm hadn't passed by the time they'd been allowed out... _This _had to be the reason.

"There was alcohol present in his bloodstream."

"That irrelevant. You put any other student in same position, they going to get hurt. They not all trained to that physical level."

Arthur saw the door move and he jolted backwards again. Not wanting to appear as if he'd been eavesdropping on the conversation inside, he tried to look as casual as possible, and he relaxed his shoulders and stepped forward to make it look as if he were just arriving on the scene. China shut the auditorium door, before giving Arthur a confused look.

"What you doing here so early, aru?"

Arthur stared at him, and coughed, trying not to blow his cover. "Erm. Well, I thought it might be better to get here early? I'm still trying to get my bearings around the campus, I er... Wouldn't want to get lost and be late." That wasn't a lie, either.

China cocked an eyebrow, still seeming disgruntled from the conversation with Germania. "I see. Well, you go take seat inside, aru. There no seating plan. You be waiting a while though."

With that, he walked straight past Arthur and down the corridor. What Arthur had overheard left him curious. At the same time, the topic was disturbing to think about... Who had been shot? He thought instantly of the previous England, but that had happened a month ago, so he'd been told. Arthur walked towards the auditorium door, and pushed it open. Germania was stood not far away, at the back of the several rows of plush red seats leading to the stage, sorting through a pile of papers in his grasp. His head craned towards Arthur when he entered; his dead stare causing him to freeze up.

"Er... Mr. China told me to..." Arthur began.

Germania cut him off with a nod. "Go sit."

The entire room was empty, save for the two of them. Arthur trundled towards the stage, taking a seat on the second row from the front. He had hoped to get a look at what China had pinned to the back wall, but with the Vice Principal locking his intimidating stare onto him, he'd decided against it.

It didn't take long as he had thought for the other students to start pouring in. A couple of freshmen came, then a small group of juniors a few minutes later, and then others began to file in every so often, more often than not taking the seats at the front first and gradually filling the place to the back until it was full.

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred plopped into the seat next to him. "Lukas said you went for breakfast without me." He gave a false-looking pout. It was difficult to hear his voice, as loud as it was, in the crowded auditorium.

"Ah. Yes. Sorry, I finished early." Arthur didn't really sound sorry at all.

Alfred didn't notice. "No problem, man. Hey, s'weird they're holding an assembly on a Sunday, huh? Must be something important they've gotta tell us."

Arthur didn't know the difference, having never been in an assembly at the Academy before. Tino had said the same thing, however. On his first day, India had said everyone was in an assembly, also. He could only assume that assemblies were normally held on a Monday. However, having listened in to the conversation between China and Germania, he already knew why one was being conducted today... Or, he had a good idea of why, at least. It was uncomfortable knowing that fact, whereas everyone else seemed quite oblivious.

"I suppose." He muttered, and luckily his wry tone once again seemed to fly over Alfred's head.

* * *

"'EY! _'EY_! WAKEY-WAKEY, _LIEBHABER_ (1a)!"

Konstantin shifted in Aurel's hold, his face burrowing into the pillow, grumbling at the obnoxious yelling and banging on the dorm room door.

"YOU HAS TO GET UP! _DIE MAZEDONISCHE_ SAYS SO!"

Aurel groaned and turned onto his back. "...I-Is that... Gilbert?"

Raising his head to look at the clock on his night stand, Konstantin mumbled tiredly, "What the hell does he want? It's six AM..."

It was difficult to understand Gilbert, with the German he commonly injected into his sentences, but after a few moments more of door banging, it clicked in Konstantin's mind. _Die Mazedonische_. _The Macedonian_.

He slid out of bed, cracking his shoulder. "Did Svetlana send you?" He near grunted through the door. Oh, when Svetlana meant early, she meant _early_. But why the hell would she send Gilbert as an alarm clock?

"JA, JA! UND IT'S NOT NICE TO MAKE A LADY WAIT, SO GET OFF YOUR _ARSHE _(1b) UND MOVE IT."

"Okay, okay, I'm up! Geeze!" Konstantin called back, rubbing at his eyes. "Just cut that out, you're probably waking up the whole Goddamn building!"

Aurel sat up in bed, and yawned. "Svetlana? What does she want?"

The memories of the previous day began to flood back, causing an unpleasant pang to occur in Konstantin's stomach. He grunted, and pulled out a few articles of clothing from his wardrobe for the day, before turning to walk towards the bathroom. "She asked me to do her a favour last night." He paused, glancing over at the front door for a moment, as Gilbert was still banging repetitively on it... It was _way _too early for this. "Mind getting rid of him?"

"I'll do my best."

He was grateful that Aurel didn't ask about the favour, but Konstantin still felt guilty – on top of all the other negative feelings that were reoccurring after what had happened – for not telling him the truth outright. He showered and dressed quickly, and then returned to a silent room to find Aurel curled back up ontop of the bedsheets.

"Mmnh... Gilbert said he was trying to walk his hangover off. He found Svetlana outside the infirmary and she asked him to go get you..." He raised his head to talk to him. "Is someone hurt?"

"Yeah... It's Jovan." Konstantin tried his best to evade the whole truth again. "She wanted me to check on him with her this morning."

"Oh." Aurel rested his head back on the bed, not sounding very sympathetic.

"See you later."

"Bye."

As usual, nothing more was said before one of them departed from the room on a morning. Konstantin never did mind this fact, though he did sometimes question how normal they seemed to consider going to sleep and waking up next to one another. His mind was mostly occupied that morning with the encounter with the rogues – as expected – however, as he walked down the corridor, he recalled also what Francis had said to him in the common room. He still didn't know how to feel about the accusation that he and Aurel had _that_ kind of a relationship; whether to be angry, or embarrassed, or both, or neither. He thought perhaps that he should talk to Aurel about it, maybe... Then again, he didn't know how to bring something like that up. Things between the two of them were great as they were; they were best friends, after all, and Konstantin didn't want to lose that bond by questioning it... Especially since it looked as if his crossing over was impending.

The Academy grounds were still and silent at that time of dawn, and the air outside was dewy and fresh from the storm that had come and passed once again. He didn't even encounter Gilbert on his walk to the foyer. Most of the buildings on campus were locked overnight, but the dorms and the front building were always open, in case a teacher was needed or someone had to go to the infirmary. The infirmary area itself was spread out rather like the area outside the Vice Principal's office on the floor above. After passing through the initial doors, there was a corridor; at the end of which was a waiting area in the middle of a square-shaped room. Off of this, there were two doors and another long hallway. One of the doors was the nurse's office, labelled as such on the frosted glass pane. This was opposite the other hallway, which lead down to a few treatment and operation rooms, as well as rooms used for storage. Straight ahead were the two large doors of the main ward. They were almost always shut, though never locked. Despite this, no student count enter the main ward without permission to do so. Which was why Svetlana was pacing around the waiting area, looking so lost she didn't even seem to notice Konstantin approaching.

"_Dobro utro_. (2)" He said, his voice echoing louder off the white tiled walls than he'd intended, causing her to jolt out of her apparent daze and hold her hand to her chest in shock.

"D-Don't sneak up on me like that!" Svetlana squealed, using her native language to reply to him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, walking around to sit on one of the chairs she was stood near. "I didn't mean to. Sorry." He followed suit, responding in his own tongue as well.

She pouted, and sat down next to him. "Mrs. Hassan is checking Jovan over. She said we can go once he's awake."

Konstantin stared at the doors to the ward in front of them, nibbling at the inside of his lip. "Does she know how long that will be?"

He saw Svetlana shake her head in the corner of his eye. "No. She didn't say." She replied.

It was awkwardly silent between the two of them, for the next few moments. Konstantin remembered seeing Svetlana the evening before, and recalled that she had placed his hand over her arm to feel her device.

"Does it hurt?" He muttered, in an absent-minded fashion, as if he hadn't meant to ask it aloud.

She paused. "Does what hurt?"

"Your arm. The device. The injections hurt."

She looked towards the doors as well. "It hurt a lot the first time, but I haven't injected it myself yet. I haven't expelled enough of the drug."

Svetlana didn't take any physical classes, so that was understandable. Any whom weren't familiar with the details of crossing over might have wondered why she was even being allowed to cross over at all. But the intake of the drug before crossing over was considered important, as the drug was apparently taken in much larger doses at the training facility. Therefore, it was vital that the body of a student become used to a minor intake first.

She glanced back over at him, after he said nothing more. "It doesn't really matter that I'm not in the same physical condition as you or Jovan or some of the others. That's what Mr. Germania said, anyway. It'll just take me longer to train at the facility." She kicked her legs a bit.

"You don't mind?" He asked, glancing over at her for a moment.

"No." She shook her head again, her own gaze now fixed on the doors. "I don't mind at all."

That was what everyone ever answered with, before they crossed over. _I don't mind_. It was disturbing to hear Svetlana say it. Despite what she had told him, Konstantin could understand if someone physically ready to fight wouldn't mind... But he couldn't stop her. He doubted even Jovan could.

Egypt's mother, the school nurse, opened one of the ward doors not long after; Svetlana almost springing out of her seat in expectation when she walked through.

"He's awake now. You can go through." Mrs. Hassan said, holding the door open for them. She wore quite a harsh expression on her face, but that was normal of her. "Just stay quiet and calm, please."

"Thank you!" Svetlana said quickly, reverting to English; she got up and hurried through the door, despite what Mrs. Hassan had said, leaving the Egyptian woman shaking her head in disapproval.

Konstantin followed her through, thanking the nurse as well, though he did so at a slower, cautious pace. Once she had shut the door behind him, he caught the first of the conversation between Svetlana and Jovan. The ward was made up of seven beds in a row, separated by curtains; however, it was rare to have more than two beds ever occupied at one time. Judging by the fact that Svetlana was leaning over the bed nearest to the window on the right, Jovan was probably in that one.

Svetlana was at least being quiet, though it was clear she was fussing over Jovan; Konstantin just couldn't hear exactly what she was saying until he moved closer. She didn't seem to pay any mind to him following her in, and he wondered wryly why she'd even bothered asking him to come along, if she didn't need the moral support after all. He also wondered then if she'd be fussing over him, had he been the one to be shot. He highly doubted it.

"I was so worried! Does it still hurt much? It must have been awful!" Were several of the repetitive phrases spewing from Svetlana's mouth as she stooped over Jovan's face, blocking it from Konstantin's view, though he could see the shape of the rest of his body beneath the sterile white bedsheets. He was pretty sure Jovan would be loving the attention, as cloying as it looked.

All the same, it was a relief to hear Jovan's tired laugh, underneath all of Svetlana's fretting. It reminded Konstantin of just how worried he'd been for him.

"Hey, hey... C'mon." Jovan only ever really sounded caring when he spoke to Svetlana, although right now, Konstantin couldn't tell if he just sounded that way out of fatigue. "Don't get so worked up, I'm still in one piece, aren't I?"

"B-But what if you weren't?" She sniffled, lowering her head down to his chest, her shoulders shaking slightly.

Konstantin was beginning to find this awkward to watch, so he almost turned his head away at that moment, but was stopped when Jovan's eyes met his own.

"You're here too, huh?" Jovan asked, half-smiling.

"Yeah." Konstantin replied plainly. He didn't know what else to say – Jovan was clearly okay... Well, as okay as could be expected. He didn't need to worry or ask him how he was doing or show a great deal of sympathy; Svetlana seemed to be taking care of all of that.

Jovan shuffled up steadily, so that he was seated in the bed. Svetlana lowered herself to her knees, and placed her chin on the mattress next to him. With his now free hand, Jovan stroked lightly at the top of her hair, which didn't help in making things less uncomfortable for Konstantin at all.

"Hey." Jovan caught his attention before he went to glance away again.

Konstantin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I owe you." He said, in the most straightforward tone Konstantin had ever heard from him. "Like, seriously... Thanks."

Did that just happen...? He didn't quite believe it... Did Jovan honestly just _thank _him for something? Any other time, and Konstantin would have found that suspicious. Even with Jovan in such a state – his expression drowsy and his hair messy – there was still the nagging reflex that told him he wasn't genuinely thanking him... Even though it was clear that he was. Why would he be teasing him at a time like this?

"You don't have to thank me." He shrugged.

Jovan laughed again. "'You don't have to thank me', he says. Stop actin' all humble, _bre_. It isn't like you."

"You want me to gloat over it?" Konstantin gave him a hard stare.

"Pft, nah." Jovan shuffled a little further down again, appearing to try to make himself more comfortable against the pillows behind him. "'course I don't. I just want you to accept my thanks, man. That's all."

Konstantin paused in thought. "...Would you have done the same for me?"

Svetlana turned her head to the side on the bed, her eyes visibly swollen with tears, and both of them peered over at him as if confused by the question. It was disappointing that they had to pause to think of an answer.

Jovan gave a slight nod, then. "Yeah." He sounded remarkably pensive. "Yeah, I would have."

"Then I accept your thanks." Konstantin decided to leave it at that, and pivoted on his heel to leave the ward.

"Kosta!"

He froze in place when Jovan called out to him.

"What is it?" He glanced back over.

"Come here."

Jovan motioned with his free hand. Puzzled by his request, Konstantin walked around to the vacant side of the bed, nearest to the window. When he stood above him, Jovan extended both of his arms upwards.

"You're gonna have to help me out here, _bre_." He said, with a weary grin, when Konstantin paused, not understanding what he was doing at first.

When he realised what it was that he wanted, Konstantin leant down over Jovan, inwardly surprised. Jovan placed his forehead against Konstantin's collarbone and wrapped his arms around him as best he could, giving him a couple of pats on the back, exhaling. He couldn't return the embrace, but Jovan didn't seem to care. After their friendship had come to such an abrupt end, Konstantin hadn't expected Jovan to act this way towards him. He was left once again not knowing what to think, or how to feel.

"Take care 'til my leg's better, man." Jovan unhooked his arms. "Wouldn't want you gettin' into any trouble whilst I'm not around to repay my debt."

Konstantin stood back up. "Sentiment doesn't suit you."

"Nah." Jovan grinned wide, one arm going behind his head and the other hand dropping back down to stroke Svetlana's hair again. "S'more your thing, since you're such a Goddamn sap and all."

He merely shook his head in response, his hands on his hips. "Is that it?"

"Yeah. You can go now." The Serbian made a mocking dismissive hand gesture. "See ya, _bre_."

And with that, Konstantin moved back towards the ward doors. "Yeah. See you."

He found Aurel fast asleep on his bed, by the time he got back to the dorm. Konstantin felt like a considerable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The memory of what had happened yesterday was still unpleasant, but he was at least relieved that Jovan was safe and well – well enough to be as snarky as usual, so it seemed. With this in mind, he wondered if he should get on with his homework... _Urgh_. That idea didn't sound all too good when put into perspective... Maybe the idiot Poetry teacher would let the essay slide after what had happened to him that weekend? Somehow, he doubted it. He rummaged beneath his bed for his bag, which woke Aurel up.

"Kosta?" He mumbled with a yawn. "How's Jovan?"

"He'll live." Konstantin replied, taking out the Poetry textbook, his notepad and a pen from the bag. "He's well enough to be a sharp-tongued bastard again, at least."

"Ah..." Aurel sat up cross-legged on the bed. "So... Perhaps you could tell me why he was hurt, now?"

Konstantin remembered what Germania had told him, and so paused, before answering. "I can't, Aurel." He softened his tone of voice, expecting the other to get angry at his refusal like he had done the previous night. He moved his head up, looking him in the eyes with a frown. "I'm sorry. The Vice Principal told me not to." He now felt bad for having told Svetlana, and not Aurel, though there had been a reason as to why he'd done that.

A small pout appeared on Aurel's face. "I'm not going to blab it around, Kosta..."

Konstantin stood up and sighed, raking a hand back through his hair. "I know that. I know, but..." He didn't want to concern Aurel during the storm; that had been his reason for not telling him. Even so, he wasn't going to be keeping to his word once more if he said anything. Not that Konstantin was always a man of his word... Perhaps he still just didn't want Aurel to worry. "...Look, it's a long story."

"Which really means you just can't be bothered telling me." Aurel said coolly. He narrowed his eyes. "I thought best friends were supposed to share things like this with each other."

"I would if I could!" Konstantin raised his voice a little, but then exhaled again. "Aurel, I just told you; I was told not to tell anyone. You'll probably find out eventually, anyway."

There was quiet between them as Konstantin sat down on Aurel's bed and opened his textbook. Aurel seemed to be pausing in thought, before he grumbled a 'hmph' in response and shook his head.

"Alright, then. If you say so." He didn't sound too happy, but at the very least, he seemed to be dropping the matter.

Aurel lay back down and Konstantin spent a few minutes trying to think of how to start his essay. And, as he had predicted, his mind was too obsessed with the recent events to focus on the symbolism of daffodils in a field in accordance with the poet's life changes. He peered over at Aurel, who had laid back down once more, and thought again of what Francis had said.

"Hey? Aurel?" He asked, tapping at the blank lines of the notebook page with the end of his pencil.

"Mmh?" Aurel didn't shift from his position.

"Did you, er... Talk to Francis yesterday, by any chance?" Konstantin felt uncomfortable bringing it up, and Aurel looked equally as taken aback when the question was raised.

"Why do you ask?" He replied with notable caution in his tone. A telling response, Konstantin thought. It was pretty obvious he knew what he was talking about.

"He said something weird to me last night." He had put Aurel on the spot, and they both knew it.

"Erm... Well, weird how?" The younger student sat up cross-legged on the bed, his eyes shifting from side to side, never lingering on Konstantin's face.

Konstantin wondered how to phrase the answer to that. "Erm... Weird as in..." His thumbnail was picking at the binder of his notebook without him realising. "...I think Francis thinks we're er..." He didn't usually find it this difficult to be articulate. But he didn't usually bring his social life up in conversation, even if it was with Aurel. Konstantin could be blunt. He could be _very _blunt, at the worst of times, but he always seemed to lose that ability when it came to talking about matters concerning himself. He made a circular, rolling movement with the hand he was holding the pencil in, as if to make Aurel catch his drift. "..._Y'know_..."

It was blatantly obvious Aurel was pretending he had no idea what he was talking about. The key word being _pretending_. Konstantin spreading his lips thinly, staring across the room to the other boy in expectation. Aurel would meet his gaze for a second, then his red eyes would flicker off to the side, and back at him again, and so on; it was very telling. Konstantin had to try hard not to hit his forehead with the heel of his palm.

"_Francis thinks we're sleeping together_." He forced himself to say, the underneath of his collar heating up upon him hearing his own words.

"Oh." Aurel said simply, his eyes not stopping their precarious movements. "Well. _We do_... Sometimes."

"No. _No_." Konstantin said, slowing his voice and trying to make Aurel realise he could see straight through his attempt at an oblivious façade. "We don't. We share a bed sometimes. There's a difference, Aurel." He knew the Romanian knew that, but nor did he want to accuse him of playing dumb... Not just yet, at least. "Francis thinks we're..." Dating? A couple? Gay? It all meant the same, didn't it? "...Like Lukas and Søren." Lukas was a good friend of Aurel's; they ran the 'magic club' together. Aurel knew exactly what his relationship with Søren was, even if that kind of thing was considered something kept hushed between students.

"Oh." Aurel said again. "_O-Oh_... I see... Ah, yes, well..." He played with the hem of his shirt. "...I'm sure there's a... Reason behind that..."

Konstantin seemed to have him cornered now. "You think? We're the only ones who know we..." He took a short moment to find his next words. "...Sleep in the same bed sometimes. What reason does Francis have to think we're doing..." Another quick think. "..._More_?"

Aurel finally looked straight back at him, a visible frown forming across his features. "Why does it matter? What are you suddenly bringing it up for?"

He was getting defensive. Konstantin didn't actually know the exact reason why he was being so forward with it. What had simply just been a memory crossing his mind – what should have been an irrelevant memory, given what else had happened that same day – had made him want to make the enquiry. "I don't know." He admitted, then deciding to turn it back on Aurel, "Why are you being so defensive?"

"Why are _you_ being such a jerk!?" The younger student shot back.

"You're hiding something from me!" Konstantin raised his volume.

Aurel raised his own higher. "And you're hiding something from me!"

Konstantin threw his books and pencil down onto the bedsheets in irritation. "I told you why I can't tell you that." He grumbled, becoming quieter again.

"_Quid pro quo_, Kosta!" Aurel's voice didn't change at all, though. If anything it was getting louder. "If you're going to withhold something from me, then don't expect me not to do the same to you!"

Opening his mouth to argue further, no sound came from Konstantin's mouth at first. Aurel was right, but at the same time, the two situations weren't the same. He'd been told to keep quiet; he'd already broken that agreement once. There wasn't any good reason Aurel couldn't tell him what he knew, however. But Aurel wasn't to blame for that. He probably didn't suspect that Konstantin and Jovan had been attacked by rogues in the forest.

He exhaled. "Okay, Aurel. Okay. We'll make a deal. You tell me what I asked, and I'll tell you what happened yesterday." He didn't want to tell him. Not because he'd been told not to, but more because he didn't want Aurel to overreact to what had happened, much like Svetlana had done when he'd let her know.

Aurel's annoyed frown melted into a look of interest. Striking that deal seemed to have worked, then. "Ah..." He softened his voice. "Very well. It's a deal." He gave a couple of dopey blinks. "It's still morning, though. Refresh my memory, what was it you wanted to know?"

"Why Francis thinks we're gay." Konstantin reiterated as plainly as he possibly could, very much forcing himself to be straightforward once again.

"Right, right... Well, it's not much of a story..." Aurel lifted his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "I was in town when the erm... Storm yesterday hit." He looked off-put just by having to talk about it. "So, I ran back to the Academy and straight into the dorm buildings and, well. Straight into Francis, would you believe!" He made a quick gesture with his hands; it was just like Aurel to tell something overdramatically, like it was a children's bedtime story. "I wasn't looking where I was going, most likely; I... Can't say I particularly care when there's a storm... And erm... Well, I wanted to get here as fast as I could – of course – but Francis wouldn't let me go until I told him why I wanted to get there so fast..." He looked towards his lap with a now sheepish countenance. "...I didn't want to tell him that I was frightened of the storm... So I... I told him that you told me to get there quickly, instead. O-Of course, when he decided to make of that what he did, he let me go. I erm..." There was a faint pink glow on Aurel's cheekbones, which was very much visible when he began to peer up at Konstantin again. "...I assume that's why he thinks us to be..." His voice trailed off. Clearly he was having as much trouble being blunt with the topic as Konstantin normally did.

"...Right..." Konstantin sighed heavily. He couldn't blame Aurel for using that excuse, but nor was it particularly good on Konstantin's end. The idea of Francis thinking they were together irked him; mostly because he knew that Francis would gossip. As respectful as the students seemed to be on the whole of most 'relationships' that went on at the Academy, Konstantin almost felt like it was annoying that other people would know that he and Aurel were together before they even knew themselves, in a way. Knowing and thinking were indeed different things, but it bothered him all the same. He leaned forward on the bed, holding his forehead in his hands. "_Right_. I see." He droned.

"I'm... Sorry." Aurel muttered. "You're, erm... You're not too angry with me, are you?"

There were a lot of questions Konstantin wanted to ask now. _A lot_ of questions... But was this really the time? He couldn't say he knew. He nodded his head in response (which to him, was a no). "No, but I don't know what I'm feeling right now." He admitted. He didn't know how what he'd been feeling since the morning of the day before, were he to be completely honest.

Aurel took a while to speak up again, clearly expecting Konstantin to go ahead with his end of the bargain straight away. "So... What about you?"

By that time, Konstantin's mind had wandered off. He glanced back at up at Aurel. "What about me?"

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened to you and Jovan?"

Konstantin tried to remember how he'd broken it to Svetlana. "Oh... Yeah." Well, there was no backing away now. He had to tell him. "Just er... Just remember, I was told not to tell anyone, okay? So just... Pretend you had no idea when it goes around the rest of the school."

Aurel nodded. "Of course."

"...Remember England? Not the new one, the old guy?"

There was a short period of quiet, and Aurel's face slowly dropped, as if he already knew what Konstantin was going to say. At the very least, he could tell it to him straight now, without worrying about it being too heavy a revelation.

"Yes, I remember him..."

"The rogues that shot him... There's more of them out in the woodland. Or, well... _Was_. Jovan and I took care of the ones we encountered... But, er, Jovan got shot in the leg. He lost a lot of blood, too. That's why I went with Lana to the infirmary. He's okay now... We both got lucky, I guess." Leaning back forward, he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he gave his explanation.

"...I can't believe it..." Aurel said quietly, and when Konstantin looked up again he saw the younger student had slumped his shoulders and dropped his head. His eyes were wide, and as was to be expected, he looked surprised. Thankfully, he didn't seem nearly as upset by the matter as Svetlana had been. "Hell... Kosta that must have been awful."

Konstantin gave a light shake of the head. "It... Wasn't exactly a nice walk through the woods, no."

"A-And you took them down? You weren't hurt, were you?" Now Aurel looked concerned more than anything.

"I think you would have known if I'd been hurt."

The Romanian unfolded his legs and slid off the bed, striding over to where Konstantin was seated. To Konstantin's surprise, he put his arms around his shoulders, sitting down very close next to him. His hold was tight; almost desperate.

"Kosta... I don't know what to say." Aurel muttered, resting his chin on the edge of Konstantin's collarbone. "Poor Jovan... But, I'm... I'm glad you're safe. I can't imagine what it must have been like."

He was taking this well. Very well. A lot better than he had expected him to. With another sigh, Konstantin lifted his own arms and hugged them around Aurel. He felt better now; like he'd been relieved of a hefty weight.

"Awful..." He replied, leaning his head against Aurel's and musing aloud, "...Yeah, awful... But, it's not something I won't see again."

"No... Of course not. You're going to cross over and become a soldier, aren't you." Aurel muttered, sounding a little bitter.

"Most of us will." Though, Konstantin now questioned the fate of the entire Academy project. It had been threatened to come to a close after England's death. He wondered now if the whole thing would be overthrown altogether.

Aurel huffed, and unhooked his arms, standing up. Konstantin freed him from his hold, and he walked over to and through the bathroom door, saying nothing more. When he'd shut it behind him, Konstantin was left wondering if he'd said anything wrong... Aurel knew what crossing over meant. Everyone did. Why was he so upset over it, all of a sudden? Had it been to do with what he'd just told him? He didn't know.

Konstantin had gotten three lines into his essay over the next couple of hours. Aurel had showered and dressed and started some of his own homework in that time. There wasn't much of a conversation between them meanwhile; Konstantin purposefully avoided asking Aurel what had upset him, for fear it would make things worse.

At half-past nine, there was a knock on their door. The voice of a male student that Konstantin couldn't place – unlike Gilbert's – spoke from the hallway, "There's an assembly at ten!"

Aurel and Konstantin exchanged glances.

"An assembly? Is it because of what happened to you and Jovan?" Aurel asked as he put his notebook on Konstantin's bed.

Konstantin thought that was probably the case.

* * *

By ten o'clock, the room was nearly filled with the whole Academy populace. Arthur noted that most of the staff had seats at the ends of each row of chairs, but on the stage area already at this time were Germania and India. They were sat at the left-hand side of the stage, whereas China was at the podium in the centre, flipping through papers with a visible frown on his face. The whole of the vast room was filled with loud mutterings from the students; only silenced when China tapped the crackling microphone and spoke to them.

"Settle down, aru!" He ordered, hushing most of them. He repeated again, louder, to quiet the rest. "Settle down!"

When all of the students' attentions were gained, he scanned his eyes over each stand of the seats, as if he were searching out someone in particular.

"Today's assembly going to be held by India, aru." Usually, assemblies were held by the Principal himself, but he'd been absent from the school to deal with business involving the previous England's death. China usually shared the job with the Principal; occasionally India or Germania would, too. "Because of this assembly, there no going to be one tomorrow. Classes will be as normal. That all, aru."

With that, China walked straight off the stage via the right exit. Some of the students visibly looked confused by this abruptness, and glanced between one another. Arthur wondered if it was because of his aggravation with Germania about half an hour prior to then, when he'd listened in on their conversation. India rose from his seat and stepped to the podium to speak next.

"Students, the past month has been exceedingly difficult for the Academy." He began. Unlike China, it was difficult to gauge his expression. "As most of you know, there has been a group of protesters, known to us as 'rogues' that have been opposed to the aim of the Academy project. At the beginning of the month, Gregory Richardson – our former England – was shot and murdered on his way to crossing over."

Gregory Richardson... Arthur stared up at India, his eyes widening in surprise. He knew a Gregory Richardson. Well, he had known one, anyway. They had been close friends at the children's home in London for a few years; Gregory had started to become like a brother to Arthur before he was suddenly taken in by a family in the north of the country. But... It couldn't have been the same person. That was far too much of a coincidence... Wasn't it?

"The group of rogues that did this and lived were rounded up by Pangaea's security and taken to the U.N. courts for questioning. However, as it happens, more rogues have been found present on the island." India's tone was surprisingly calm, considering what he was saying.

More students glanced between their friends again, muttering in hushed tones. More rogues? Arthur just frowned.

"Yesterday morning, two students ventured off the road connecting the Academy and the town and into the depths of the woodland near to the training facility. Here, they were attacked by a group of these rogues." A considerable amount of gasps emitted from the seated crowd. India raised his volume to speak over the tittering that followed. "They are both alive, however!" Everyone seemed to quieten down a little bit more after being told that. "Yet, as a precaution, the Academy will be in a lockdown once more."

Arthur didn't like the sound of this. He really didn't care too much about the lockdown, unlike Alfred who seemed to slump in his seat, grumbling a dejected 'aww, man' upon hearing it, but more rouges on the island, after all? That was a worrying thought... An incredibly worrying thought, in fact. Wasn't the island's location supposed to be secret, and wasn't it supposed to be secure? The pieces didn't fit there...

"Following overnight contact with the U.N. headquarters, we have concluded that the program will come to a close. This means there will be no more new delegates to replace those seniors whom choose to cross over. In spite of this, it is now highly recommended that any ready to cross over do so as quickly as possible."

Arthur thought that to be near ridiculous – there were rogues on the island, threatening the project, so they were going to push students to cross over faster? That sounded like they were just _making _them targets, judging by what had happened to this Gregory Richardson. Be it the one Arthur knew or not, he had crossed over with the intention of overthrowing the entire program. Why wasn't the U.N. going to just shut it down altogether?

"If you are of age and willing to cross over, and have not yet made an appointment with the Vice Principal, there is a piece of paper on the back wall of the room." India lifted his arm to motion there. "Please write your delegate name down as you leave the auditorium."

When Arthur had thought that the situation the Academy was in couldn't get any worse, apparently it had done. It was near preposterous – even though the program wasn't going to be bringing in any more delegates, there were still well over a hundred students that would eventually have to either cross over, or stay in the town. They were still trapped, either way.

India went on to say that anything that needed to be purchased from the town could be asked for at the front desk. After which, he dismissed the assembly. There was an air about the rest of the students that Arthur could feel; like they were mostly all thinking the same as he was... Like they'd been frightened or upset by what had been said. A quick glance around showed no one was smiling. Arthur didn't expect any of them to be, but he thought it was unusual all the same for everyone to look so forlorn... Had it been the same when news of Gregory Richardson's death had spread throughout the school? No, that had probably been much worse... Still, there was evident tension filling the auditorium. Everyone rose from their seats one after another, filing out past the piece of paper pinned to the back wall, only a few seniors straying from the rest to take a look at it. Arthur himself took little notice of who they were; they were no one he recognised outright.

"This sucks..." Alfred sighed, wandering at the back of the pile-out with Arthur. He kicked at the floor a bit with his feet, his hands in his pockets and a visible frown on his face.

Arthur's mind was too far elsewhere to listen to Alfred complaining, though. Having said that, he did have a question for the American... But he decided the auditorium, where the rest of the Academy was in relative earshot, was perhaps not the best place to ask it.

He waited instead until they had gotten back to their dorm building to even bring it up.

"Alfred? Could I ask you something?" There was a considerable lack of talking going on between any and all students. Anything that was said was muttered quietly. Arthur followed suit.

Alfred looked at him. "Sure, what is it?"

Arthur headed for the staircase. "Let's talk in my dorm, alright? I'd rather not say out here."

The younger student agreed, and Arthur only spoke again once the door to his dorm was locked. Francis was still absent; he hadn't seen him at the assembly, but that didn't mean he hadn't been there.

"So, what was it you wanted to ask?" Alfred said, whilst seeming interested in the inside of the dorm. He began to take a look around as soon as he'd stepped through the door. Arthur wondered why; he didn't think there couldn't have been much difference between each dorm.

"Erm... I was hoping you'd be able to tell me something about Greg-" He stopped himself mid-sentence. "...The old England."

Alfred didn't seem to have taken notice of the blip in Arthur's sentence. He did turn to look at him then, however, with a visible frown.

"Ah, sorry man." He scratched the back of his head. "I didn't know him that well. He had a few friends and all but I think he just sorta preferred to keep to himself."

Arthur mused what he already knew about Gregory Richardson over in his head for a moment, trying to see if there were any parallels between the previous England and the boy he had known earlier on in his life... One was quite striking; despite what Alfred had said, he had to double-check.

"Well... Do you perhaps know at least if he came here when he was fifteen? Or, rather, just before he turned fifteen?" He asked, gazing over at the other student in anticipation. Perhaps it was all just a coincidence... Or perhaps the pieces fit better than he'd initially thought.

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, actually, I do know!" His eyes lit up as if a bright thought had processed all of a sudden in his head – which was probably the case, were Arthur asked his opinion. "It was before I came here, but yeah, it was the first time they split up the place from Britain into four." But then, he looked confused again. "Eh. Kinda weird if you ask me. Apparently they did it for numbers or something."

So that was why the delegate position was called 'England' and not 'Britain'. Arthur hadn't known it had been formally a place for one country, but what Alfred had said seemed to explain it... So what of the other three? Were they from Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland, then? Arthur hadn't come across them... Had they already crossed over, he wondered. That hadn't answered his question, anyway.

"But he came here just before he was fifteen?" He pressed.

Alfred shrugged. "He came just over four years ago, so I guess so?"

The Gregory Richardson that Arthur had known had been adopted by a family in the north of England just days before his fifteenth birthday... So Arthur had been told by the matron of the children's home when his friend had disappeared all of a sudden. His stomach sank unpleasantly... In a couple of months, that Gregory would have turned nineteen.

The pieces may have fit, but Arthur wished they didn't.

"Ah... Could you erm... Could you perhaps describe him to me? I mean, what he looked like?" Arthur tried to get a picture of the boy he'd been at the children's home with in his mind. This was the best chance he had of a confirmation now... And Alfred didn't seem like the type to lie about something like this.

Alfred folded his arms and tapped his foot in thought. "Er, he had this weird greasy-looking curly hair. I think he had enough gel in that shit to kill a small animal." _Yes_... "And it was this icky faded brown colour." _Yes_. "And er. He had a funny upturned nose. Like he'd run into a door or something." _**Yes!**_

Arthur was too busy taking in the realisation to be able to chide Alfred for being so off-hand in his description... Really, there was no doubt in his mind left, now.

"Oh... _Blimey_..." He mumbled, bringing a hand to his forehead and rubbing at it.

"What is it?" Alfred asked.

"The old England... Gregory Richardson..." Arthur lowered his arm and exhaled, shaking his head. "I think... I think I knew him."

* * *

Notes:

(1a) – _Liebhaber_ means 'lovers' and (1b) _arsche _means... Well... 'Arse'.

(2) – _Dobru utro _means 'good day' in several Slavic languages. This is the Bulgarian spelling, but said aloud it would be understood by a speaker of pretty much any Slavic language.

This chapter was slightly shorter than the last one, but hopefully I can start bulking them out again from here on out.

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky_.


	11. XI

_A/N:_

-**Mi3staR:**Thanks! About the DenNor thing, that wasn't something I planned on adding in originally, it just sort of worked out that way. But I won't be going into exceptional detail with their relationship. Whereas I wouldn't say they're unimportant characters for what's to come, I would say that they're side characters, and I won't be going as in-depth with them as with Arthur and Elise.

-**Guest: **Thank you for your review! You raise an interesting point about the Micronations, but I'm afraid I can't say anything without spoiling what's to come. I hope you're keeping tabs on the story, though, because you will get an answer to this eventually!

**-Tanglepelt and Zephyrbolt: **Thank you both! Again, I can't comment further on what the two of you have said without spoiling, but I'm glad you're both still enjoying the story!

* * *

_**XI.**_

Alfred had seemed shocked at the discovery. Sure, Arthur couldn't be one hundred percent certain that the Gregory Richardson he knew was his predecessor to the title of England at the Academy... From what Alfred had said, he was around ninety-nine percent certain, if he were to tack a number onto it; but even so, it was too much of a coincidence to be overlooked. Whereas Alfred was shocked, Arthur himself was twice as astonished. Of all the people in his home country that could have been the delegate before him, it was the boy he had once looked up to as an older brother...

...It was not a pleasant surprise in the slightest. He had been lied to by the children's home when they'd told him Gregory had been adopted, first of all. This was a secondary annoyance, yet not what bothered him the most. If they were the same person after all, it meant that Gregory was dead. That was the lingering thought that plagued Arthur's mind every time he had drawn the parallel. It was even worse to have it basically confirmed. His old friend had been murdered on that very island he was now, himself, stuck on.

And there had been another attack on the students, so had been said at the assembly... This was terrible.

His heart felt heavy now that he was quite sure he knew the truth about Gregory, but he tried not to let it show. Arthur began to put everything he knew together in his mind again, as he walked to the library after lunch. He couldn't put it down on paper – there was too much of a risk aligned with that, particularly if a member of staff were to come across it, even by accident. It would become clear that he was snooping around in business that didn't seem to concern students... Even though, ultimately, it was the students who crossed over, and so Arthur thought it _did_ concern them _plenty_, as a matter of fact.

What he had to look for in the library – or indeed elsewhere – was information on the Giga Neuro project. All he knew so far was that it was affiliated in some way with the Academy sector at the U.N., and had selected the original delegates for the school. Based on the name of the project, it could be assumed that it was something to do with 'great minds', perhaps. Fitting enough, seeing as how the students had to be over a certain level of IQ to enter. The Vice Principal had told him this was because an ordinary human brain could not withstand the crossing over process... But why? There was always the _why_. What made their minds so special that only they could handle it? That was exactly why he needed to find out about the Giga Neuro project... Only then could he wholly make sense of everything, and perhaps even find a way to get out of the predicament...

...Just as Gregory had tried to do.

The library lacked any books of the Giga Neuro project. Unsurprising, since even the staff area on the Academy's intranet lacked anything about it. Was it that top-secret? Perhaps the library had school records... He remembered not wanting to ask for the archives when he had done his first search the previous data. But after browsing through the bookcases and finding nothing, it seemed like it was worth a shot. He eyed the front desk – an oak-topped half-oval that sat in the corner of the entrance and was staffed by a tall, rather busty (although, Arthur purposefully made himself not look) young woman with short, pale blonde hair. She was sorting through a filing cabinet against the back wall when he approached.

"Excuse me?" He said, though not very loudly. He remembered it was a library he was in, after all.

She jumped with a high-pitched squeal anyway. He had surprised her, which surprised him; he jolted at her exclamation.

"Ahh... Oh... G-Goodness!" She turned around quickly, her large breasts swinging after her. (_'Don't look directly at them!'_ Arthur told himself. _'Don't look, don't look, don't bloody look!'_) She placed her hand on her chest to calm herself down, which didn't help. "I-I'm sorry, dear. I didn't see you there." She had a heavy Eastern European accent, though he couldn't place exactly where she might have been from.

"Erm... That's alright, I didn't mean to startle you." As usual, Arthur didn't sound too genuine when saying that. Truthfully he did think it was a funny thing to get started over – staffing a library, shouldn't she have been used to unexpected (and unintentionally louder than she might have liked) noise in a quiet place? "Do you... Perhaps have any archives, or school records?"

She shook her head. "No, I am sorry. Those are kept under lock and key by the Principal." She replied; Arthur was grateful she didn't seem suspicious of him for asking, so he didn't push his luck.

"Ah... Alright. Thank you very much." He said, being polite on purpose. So, the Principal's office seemed to be a better place to look... Oh dear. "Have a good day."

"You too!" She smiled, just before he turned to leave.

He felt a little guilty, after stepping back outside into the warmth of the afternoon... That poor librarian seemed to have no idea what he was up to. Perhaps she didn't think a new student would have the guts to go digging around in the Principal's archives... And were he to be perfectly honest, Arthur didn't think he had the guts to do it himself. Not right away, at least. He needed a plan, first of all – no one did such reckless things without thinking them through. He needed a plan... And he needed backup. Going it alone was ideal, but he doubted it was possible. Indeed, there was less chance of being detected, but other heads would come in very useful... But who could he trust to help him? There was Alfred, and Elise... Perhaps some of the others like Lukas and Søren, if he got to know them better. Maybe Eduard, too; he seemed eager enough to help Arthur before... But first, he had to get a plan of action down, before letting any of the other students know.

There were faint voices down by the south gate, being carried by the wind up the gradient of the hill... Arthur stopped and listened. It sounded like a small gathering – were Konstantin and Jovan playing tennis again? He walked around the library building and peered down at the courts – they were empty, but there was a group forming further away, out across the field where Archery was practised... What were they doing?

It was by the south gate... Was someone crossing over? He made his way down in a quick jog to see.

There were perhaps thirty students at the gate, which Arthur saw, once he'd got closer, was open. They had formed an arch shape around it, which didn't actually make it too hard to see through. He stood on his toes anyway, though the few students he was behind were nice enough to part their shoulders and let him through. He thanked them briefly.

They had left quite a large space between the arched line, in front of the gates. There, to Arthur's surprise, were Vice Principal Germania, stood with his back to the centre of the arch, facing five intimidating-looking men in black. Four of the five looked like regular soldiers; each in dark padded armour with helmets and visors, and all armed with a rifle... But the man in the middle looked completely different. He wore black armour too, but it wasn't like what the other soldiers wore, nor was the same ancient-looking armour as Germania's. It was like a long, sleek trenchcoat; it didn't even look like it gave much in the defensive department. Nor did his helmet cover the whole of his head; it was a thin black visor, that covered his eyes and had thin strips of metal that clung to each side of his face, apparently holding it in place. Above this, tufts of yellow-blonde hair were visible. It was more like a headset than a visor... And then there was a large metallic shoulder pad on his left arm, extended halfway down and wrapped around his bicep, which looked even more out of place. On the right side breast of his coat was the only speck of colour – a tiny blue and yellow patch; Arthur had to squint to make out that it was the Swedish flag. If that wasn't enough, he didn't carry a rifle, but a large sword, which had been placed in front of him, and he held it with his hands crossed over the top of the handle... Arthur was beginning to think this was all a dream again.

"Is that... Berwald?" He heard one of the students asked in a mutter.

Germania seemed to glower in the direction of the student that had said that. The gathering was immediately silent. "Welcome home." He said, turning his head back towards the soldier with the sword.

'Welcome home'? So he'd once been a student at the Academy... That was the only conclusion that could be drawn. He was the product of crossing over, or so Arthur assumed. A frown etched at his lips, as he stared at what part of the soldier's face wasn't covered by the headset. He was stone-faced; expressionless; his posture was upright and rigid.

"Come, I'll show you to your post." Germania lead the blond soldier to Arthur's side of the arch, the students there parting to let them pass, everyone's heads turning to watch, their gazes fixated, more than one stood with their mouths lax and gaping wide. The remaining four began to shut the south gate meanwhile, though none passed back through it. Once the Vice Principal was seemingly out of earshot, the muttering picked up again.

"Someone should tell Tino, or Søren!" One of the girls stood near Arthur said. He didn't look towards the speaker, but he could tell there she was concerned, just from her voice.

"What? Didn't you see him? No way should those guys know about this!" A male student replied.

"They'll find out either way – I can't imagine they'd be happy if we didn't tell them." A third, again male, voice interjected.

Arthur was more bothered about the reason that man was here, than why it would concern Tino or Søren. He glanced back over at the rifle-wielding men, pushing the gate shut with a heavy slam. Had it been something to do with the rogue attack?

"Hey, Arthur." A familiar voice spoke up, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He turned his head back to his right, where Elise now stood; the rest of the group disintegrating and heading away from the gate area. He hadn't noticed her in the gathering, strangely enough.

"Ah. Hello, Elise." He replied. "I didn't see you."

She gave a light shrug. "I didn't expect you to, with all that happening just now." He saw that she was frowning. "This is amazing. I think this is the first time someone who's crossed over has come back to the Academy."

That confirmed his suspicions. He turned to head back across the field with her. "I see. I thought that might be the case; why is he back, do you think?"

She shook her head, the bangs of her hair bouncing as they usually did when she moved. "I don't know for sure. It's probably to do with those rogues. Berwald only crossed over a couple of weeks before you came here... Maybe they're worried about the safety of the training facility after what happened yesterday?"

Somehow, Arthur doubted that was the case. "You're saying the Academy is safer than the training facility?"

"Well, I don't know, obviously. I've never been to the training facility."

He paused to think for a couple of moments. "And I suppose you've never seen someone after they've crossed over either, then?"

"No." She sighed. "Berwald seems so different... It's worrying."

Arthur didn't know Berwald beforehand, of course, but he had sort of gathered that from the reactions of the other students, and in particular, he could tell it bothered Elise.

"I mean... He was always stern, on the outside. But he seemed expressionless. He didn't even respond to the Vice Principal." She continued.

He had noticed that too... _'How worrying, indeed'_, he thought.

"Do you think he was... I don't know, brainwashed, perhaps?" He asked.

She gave a light snort, sounding bitter in her reply, "That would make sense, wouldn't it?" She then sighed again. "Anyway, there's no use getting worked up about it. For all we know, he could just be acting soldierly for the sake of it."

He very much doubted that, as well. Arthur peered over at the disappearing figures of Germania and Berwald – his sword in tow – across the field, several students seeming to pursue them at a safe distance, curious of where this 'post' was, perhaps... And to Arthur, him having a post meant that he was there to guard something.

"Of course." He replied. "So, was he friends with Tino and Søren, by any chance?"

Elise nodded. "Yeah. Søren, Lukas, Emil, Tino and Berwald... The five of them were inseparable."

The 'five' that she had mentioned the previous day clicked all of a sudden in his mind. "Like brothers?"

She folded her arms and looked at him with a forlorn countenance, seeming to make the connection as well. "Mm. Like brothers."

Instead of following the others, the two of them sat down at the base of the grassy slope at the end of the field. It was then that Arthur realised there was something he hadn't yet told Elise... Or, well, anyone, except for Alfred. It wasn't something he planned to spread around, but it was something he still wanted to know more about, at the same time.

"Elise?"

She was staring off across the grass in thought. "Yeah?"

"As surprising as this sounds, I'm quite sure I used to know Gregory Richardson."

Her head turned towards him, her eyes going wide. "What?"

"The previous England." He was the one to look out across the expanse of the field, towards the distant gate, then. "He and I were in the same children's home in London."

Elise said nothing, and steadily looked forwards again as well.

"I didn't know him for long... Three years, at most, I suppose. He became like an older brother to me, though. And then, one day, he just disappeared, not long before his fifteenth birthday. The matron told me he'd been adopted." There was little empathy in his vocal tone, despite his words, and he wondered if she would be irritated with that. "Of course, there's no way I know it was him for certain, but if it wasn't, it's one hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

She dropped her head and gave it a slow shake. "God..." Then, she brought her hand up to her forehead, rubbing at it. "..._God_. What have I done? Arthur, I'm sorry. If I'd have known I wouldn't have told you anything yesterday."

He then realised him telling her had only served to make her feel bad... In turn, he himself felt guilty in an instant. That hadn't been his intention. "Ah, no, not at all. You did nothing wrong, Elise. I'm quite glad you told me, actually."

That didn't seem to console her, and her tone dropped to sad, near-whisper, "It must be awful for you, though... To have only known pieces of the story and..." She gave a heavy exhale. "Why did no one know? The Vice Principal must have known you and he knew each other, at least! Why weren't you told straight that he was killed!?"

Arthur wondered that himself. "It's been about four years now, since I last saw him. Indeed, we were close at the time, but... I shouldn't let it bother you." He couldn't lie to himself; he was upset, internally. Anyone would have been. He just liked to think he was good at hiding his emotions.

They were both quiet for a while. Faint sounds from the school buildings – voices and footsteps and the like – were heard from up the top of the hill and beyond. But the hill was now empty, save for the two of them, and the atmosphere was still, serene and warm. Arthur stared up at the sky; there wasn't a single cloud in the expanse of blue. The storms seemed long gone, by now.

"It's not a coincidence." Elise spoke plainly, after some time had passed. "I don't know how he managed to get you here, or exactly why, but Gregory wanted you here."

Arthur looked back at her, an eyebrow raised. "That's quite a conclusion to jump to."

"It makes sense though, doesn't it?" Her eyes flickered a little, and she began to appear pensive again. "If you were like a younger brother to him, then he may have wanted you to..." Her voice trailed off.

She didn't finish her sentence, but Arthur was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. Gregory – were it the Gregory he had known – wanted him as the next England to finish his business at the Academy. That was to say, he wanted help in overthrowing the program... It was certainly a stretch, and as Arthur had said himself, it was a big conclusion that Elise had come to. Yet, the pieces seemed to fit. He just couldn't quite believe it on presumptions alone.

Elise frowned, and turned to face him. "Arthur, promise me something." There was seriousness in her gaze, which seemed like it didn't belong there. "Promise me you won't try to do what Gregory did."

He stared back at her, but broke their eye contact to respond. He didn't know what the future held. He hadn't thought about overthrowing the program, or even trying to. But he knew one thing – he didn't want to become a soldier, in the mould that Berwald had apparently conformed to; nor did he want to be stuck on Pangaea for the rest of his life, no matter the reason. "I can't do that, I'm afraid."

She raked her hand back through her hair, letting out a huff of frustration. "I don't want to see you or anyone else get hurt, you know."

Arthur gazed up into the blue overhead again, realising now that he had a lot to put into perspective.

"Neither do I, Elise. Neither do I."

* * *

Homecomings weren't a common event at the Academy. There were arrivals, and there were departures – that was the norm. Having two separate homecomings on the same day was probably a first, were Konstantin to guess.

"Berwald?" Aurel asked, staring through the glass of the front window in the far corner of the foyer out onto the driveway area.

"Looks that way." Konstantin replied, his eyes focused on the metal shoulderpad on Berwald's arm. It appeared to connect beneath the arm of his coat to his device – though anyone who wasn't aware of devices probably wouldn't have thought much of it.

Aurel seemed to be more interested in the group of northern Europeans that had shot through the foyer and out of the front; apparently informed by some of the other students that their old friend had returned to the Academy. Now Tino, Søren, Emil and Lukas stood at a distance from the black-clad Swede, none of them appearing to know how to approach him. Stood near them was Vice Principal Germania, and the Principal of the Academy – Rome, or Maximus Marcus Vargas. He was a bulky man, just passed middle-aged, who – like Germania – wore full body armour around the school; his was more like a bronze Gladiator's uniform, complete with the leather greaves and crimson cloak. The conversation down there couldn't be heard, but for some reason the Principal seemed to give a hearty laugh and slapped Germania on the back, leaving the latter with an unamused expression.

Asides from the northern European party, there were six other students nearby. Recognisably, the two delegates from Italy – the Principal's grandsons, Feliciano and Lovino Vargas. The three Vargas family members all had a similar air about them, but were different in certain demeanours and traits. Feliciano, the younger brother, was more like his grandfather in personality – they were both cheerful and energetic, whereas Lovino, the elder, was much the opposite. On the other hand, Lovino more resembled the Principal in that they both had the same dark, slightly curled hair and tanned skin; Feliciano was paler, his hair a little more tame and of a reddish-brown hue. Something about the Vargas family had always irritated Konstantin; he'd never been able to put his finger on what it was, however. The other four students were the remaining British Isle delegates – Scotland, Éire, Northern Ireland and Wales. He didn't care much for any of them, personally. But their party, consisting of those four and the Principal and his grandsons, had been absent from the school for a couple of weeks, now. They had been called away to the U.N. Headquarters to provide evidence on the killing of the previous delegate from England – or, rather, to see the verdict passed on the rogues that had been captured after the killing (Konstantin frowned as this thought crossed his mind – none of the gunmen had been left alive after the fight he'd faced himself; he didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing). At least, that was what most of them had left to do. The Principal had taken his grandsons with him, possibly because he felt more at ease doing so. No one could see why else he would do that – they were not connected closely to the old England, and had no purpose going along with their grandfather otherwise.

"What do you suppose Berwald is doing here? I thought it was an unwritten rule that those who crossed over could never return?" Aurel asked, his voice relatively hushed.

"He's completed his training..." Konstantin muttered, chewing on his lip.

"Really?" As expected, Aurel sounded surprised. "But he only crossed over... Well, less than a month ago! How can you tell?"

Konstantin realised then that he knew more than Aurel was aware of. "Berwald was at the top of most of his classes, remember? I don't think it's unlikely for him to have finished the training in such a short amount of time."

"Still, that doesn't explain _why _he's _here_. I thought those who finished their training were shipped off to wherever the U.N. wanted them."

It didn't take long for Konstantin to come to the realisation. Berwald, after completing his training, was now the completed product of the entire Academy program – he was a highly-skilled, highly-dangerous, near-invincible soldier... At least, that was what the program claimed to produce, and the Swede certainly looked the part. Berwald had been a model student, to boot. He'd been the opponent no one wanted to spar with in Swordsmanship class – and it was obvious why, just by how intimidating he was to look at when paired with his weapon of choice. Konstantin could only make assumptions based on these facts, but if Berwald had indeed completed the expected training, that – as uncomfortable as it was to think about – made him the most powerful and formidable person on the island... A perfect guard against any and every rogue that remained.

The Principal and Vice Principal, as well as Feliciano and Lovino and the rest of their party headed up the steps and to the front doors. Tino, Søren, Lukas and Emil remained with Berwald, who had taken an upright stance near the base of the steps, his sword firmly held towards the ground. He stood like a statue, his back to the front of the foyer. Konstantin took his eyes off the metal over where Berwald's device was to examine the other four. Tino and Søren appeared to be trying to talk to him, despite receiving nothing in response. Occasionally Lukas would say something to Søren, though Emil seemed to stand in a glum silence.

"I wonder what they're saying..." Aurel leaned closer to the glass, squinting as if he were trying to lip read.

The Principal and the others walked into the foyer, making quite a considerable noise above the otherwise quiet atmosphere. They soon disappeared elsewhere, however; regardless, Konstantin and Aurel were too absorbed in watching what was going on outside to take much notice. Tino dropped his head, and shook it, his shoulders slumping. Søren seemed to get visibly angry at that moment, and the next thing they knew, Lukas was restraining him from lashing out. All the while, Berwald didn't move an inch. Aurel drew back again in astonishment. Moments later and Søren was in the Swede's face, Tino having to help pull him away. His yelling was loud and furious; it was muffled through the glass, but Konstantin could hear it all the same, and it was in a language he didn't understand – Danish, more than likely – but the sheer intensity of the outcry alone was enough to send a chill down his spine.

Konstantin just hoped they'd do enough to restrain him. Their situation didn't need to be any worse.

Thankfully, it didn't come to that. Søren pushed away from Tino and Lukas and around the group, storming up the steps. He whipped the front doors open, almost knocking them off their hinges, and stamped across the marble floor of the foyer, each step resounding like a crash. Lukas and Emil watched, looking perhaps as if they'd follow him for a moment or two, but didn't. They then looked towards Tino, who just continued to stare at Berwald, almost like how a lost child would stare at strangers in hopes that they'd stop and help.

Saying nothing, Konstantin turned around and walked away from the window.

"Where are you going?" Aurel enquired promptly.

"Away. I'm not comfortable watching this." He replied. It wasn't because of what was _actually_ happening. It was for a much more selfish reason, he thought. And maybe he was selfish, but all the same, he couldn't keep spying on them, because for some reason, he felt like it was his fault Berwald was there. If he and Jovan hadn't gone off the main road and attracted the rogues, Berwald wouldn't have been brought there to guard the Academy. If he hadn't have been brought there, Tino and the others wouldn't have seen him (at least, they would have been in the same position upon seeing him again).

The Romanian picked up a pace to catch up and walk with him. "Why not? I think it's fascinating!"

There were times when Aurel really could be this insensitive; Konstantin was aware of that. He wasn't in the mood to just shrug it off like usual, though. "_Fascinating_? Aurel, they're our classmates, not test subjects. If you want to keep watching like a creeper, suit yourself; I'm leaving."

On the bright side, that didn't seem to have added to the guilt Konstantin was beginning to feel; he'd told it to Aurel straight, rather than in an outburst, and so he allowed himself it without having to end up feeling like he'd need to apologise later on. Aurel returned to the window, so he assumed, and Konstantin did as he said – he left the foyer and stepped out onto the quad. After days without rain, the ground in the quad would be dry and there would be an array of students sat around on a weekend; usually the ones who didn't head to town. But the ground was still cold and slightly damp from the storms; the shade that the four buildings that locked the quad in gave didn't help. The grass down by the tennis courts would be probably firm enough, he hoped. Training on uneven ground made things frustrating, but whilst thinking about this, he remembered something... Jovan was hospitalised, with a shot wound in his leg. It seemed pretty ridiculous as to why he'd forgotten about it in the first place – he'd been the one to witness it, the one to carry Jovan back, the one to fret over whether he'd get them both to safety or not. Perhaps it was because he'd thought Jovan to be so near-invincible before the events of the previous day, or maybe it was due to how the Serb had acted when he'd visited that morning – as cocky and as sharp-tongued as usual – but it had taken Konstantin that long to realise that there was no way Jovan was in any state for a rematch now. As soon as his leg was healed, he'd be past the age of nineteen. And he'd be straight to the training facility then, probably... Maybe it was a selfish thought, once again, but Konstantin began to think all that practise he'd done – all the time he'd spent perfecting his accuracy and building up his speed and endurance to past the standards the Academy usually expected, just so that he could defeat Jovan at the thing he was best at – had been futile.

But... _No_. No one else would have said it was all for naught. Germania certainly wouldn't have thought so – that was part of the overall point of the project. The better trained he was at the Academy, the less time the final training would take at the facility. That had been the exact case with Berwald, so it had seemed... As he stepped into the boys' dorm building and up the stairs, Konstantin couldn't help but wonder: were he to cross over, would he become a daunting and unresponsive soldier, too?

* * *

Sunday couldn't have passed any faster. By the time Arthur had finished all of his homework, the sun was over the looming white walls to the west of the campus. The boys' common room was dotted with several groups of friends, or those on their own studying, as per usual.

"Yer done?" A deep, droning voice said, startling Arthur after he'd closed his notebook. He didn't even know if the question was directed at him, until he looked up and saw a face staring at him – a face he'd yet to see around the school. It was an older boy, dressed in a navy-blue jacket and jeans of a matching colour. His hair was messy, and vibrant ginger colour, and like Arthur himself, he had high cheekbones and a thick brow. He was slumped rather unceremoniously in the armchair opposite the couch Arthur had taken a liking to sitting in when it was vacant, and he was toying with a toothpick between his lips and fingers, much in the way a cigarette would be held.

"Me?" Arthur asked, double-checking the red-haired man wasn't talking to anyone else. He couldn't think of a reason as to why he'd be asking him if he was done.

"Nae, the Pope." The other student responded with blatant sarcasm. "O'course _you_."

Not appreciating the rather rude reply, Arthur frowned; though he picked up on his accent straight away. Alfred had said the delegate place of Britain had been split into four, earlier that day... So obviously, this student was... "...Scotland, I presume?"

The red-head grinned like a cat, the little piece of wood clamped between his teeth. "Call me Cameron."

Arthur threaded his pen into the binder of his notebook and tucked it beneath his arm, straightening his back. "Right. Is there something you wanted?" He had a feeling he knew the answer to that, oddly enough.

"_Aye_." Cameron unhooked his gangly leg from the arm of his hair and rose out of his seat. "Dun wanna talk in 'ere though. Yer mind comin' with me?"

"Come where?" Arthur asked.

Cameron jabbed his thumb sideways, which signalled south. "Outside. Down t'the field. Or is that too much for yer little dainty feet, English bastard?" His grin spread wider.

"O-Oi!" Arthur snarled, angered easily by such off-hand presumptions. "No, it certainly isn't! But if you ask like that, I won't be coming with you at all!"

The red-haired man took the toothpick out of his mouth and cackled, serving only to make Arthur even more aggravated. "'Ey, yer a pissy one, aren't ya? Calm yer tits and get movin', lad. There ain't much daylight left."

Arthur huffed through his nose and watched as Cameron leant down to the suitcase that was next to the armchair. He hadn't seen him enter the room at all, being engrossed in his homework in the meantime; so he hadn't yet realised that the suitcase was even there. But since he hadn't seen him around the Academy before, he could only assume that the Scot had just got back from somewhere.

"Very well." He muttered, standing up himself.

What Arthur couldn't understand was why Cameron hadn't taken the suitcase back to his dorm, when he had returned. Instead, he seemed to want to carry it with him on their walk. He motioned for Arthur to follow him out of the dorm building and past the quad, down to the fields where Arthur had been sitting with Elise earlier.

"Y'knew Greg, didn't ya, lad?" Cameron asked, his eyes focused forward; when there was no longer a chance of their conversation being overheard, or so could be assumed.

Arthur was only half surprised when he brought it up. He had thought that might have been the reason he wanted to talk to him. He nodded. "I did... I think."

"_Nae_, _nae_. Y'did." Cameron chewed on the toothpick again, almost pensively. "I know ya did. 'Cuz Greg, 'e told me 'e knew ya."

That confirmed it, then. Arthur, now suddenly feeling that shock he perhaps should have felt before, turned his head to look at the older student. "H-He did!?" He exclaimed.

"_Aye_." Cameron nodded slowly. "Y'might not know this. 'ell, y'prob'ly don't know this, but there's a reason yer 'ere." He stopped walking, just at the top of the hill slope, overlooking the tennis courts and the south gate in the very distance. Arthur did the same. A frown crossed his pale face, which looked strangely illuminated in the fading sunlight... Arthur could remember seeing a similar sort of complexion up close on Konstantin's face; though his was not quite as pasty, it had the same strange kind of glow to it. "Yer know what 'appened to 'im, right?" He lowered his voice, staring straight down at Arthur.

"Yes. I do." He replied.

"'fore ya say anythin'... Greg didn't know 'e was gonna die. _Nae_, 'e didn't know that much. But what 'e did know was that what 'e wanted to do, 'e couldn't do alone, y'know?"

Arthur mused that over for a moment. "He knew he couldn't overthrow the program alone, is that what you mean?"

"_Aye_." Cameron raised his hand, and jabbed Arthur in the shoulder. "'nd that's why _yer_ 'ere."

He glanced down at the finger that was prodding him, confusion clouding his mind again. Hadn't Elise suggested the same thing? "I'm... Not sure I follow you?"

"Greg went tae th'Principal. Asked that outta all the candidates that could replace 'im, _you_ were th'one tae come 'ere." He retracted his hand. "'e knew ya were on th'list o'potential replacements. Usually they'd choose someone younger. But yer 'ere 'cause Greg wanted ya t'be. Gettit now?"

"I... Um... Right, yes... I see..." He replied, staring up at the other student, wide-eyed. So, Gregory had _asked_ for him to come here after all? What was he supposed to do or say in response to that? "But... _Why_?"

Cameron snorted loudly. "Are ye not listenin', lad? 'e wanted someone t'finish what 'e started on this end o'th'Academy after 'e crossed over. 'e couldn't do it alone, _nae_, 'e couldn't even do it with th'help 'e got from me n'some o'th'others. So 'e got _you _in 'ere; 'e got in someone 'e _trusted_."

A forlorn frown twitched at the edge of Arthur's mouth, and he glanced out across the field. "Oh..." Well, that was upsetting. "...Let me guess. He chose to cross over so he could take down the program from the inside, yes? So he made sure I came here, so that the delegate from England was someone he could trust with taking over things on this end. However, as you said before, he had no idea he was going to die."

"_Aye_, exactly." Cameron replied.

That answered quite a lot of questions, as unpleasant as it was to think about. Arthur sighed through his nose before speaking again. "Then, what exactly is it he wanted me to do?"

"_That_, I dunno. But 'e knew this whole program was mad from th'start. I mean, y'must've stopped t'think that too. We all do. We're stuck behind those huge walls, on a remote island; we're bein' processed into soldiers. Doesn't seem right, does it? But we're just a bunch'a overly-intelligent teenagers, a lot'f whom 'ave incredible physical capacity from trainin'. What can _we_ do about it?" There was obvious irony in that statement, and Arthur caught on to what Cameron meant immediately.

He looked back up at him. "I'm supposed to lead a revolution, or something? Is that what Gregory wanted me to do?"

"_Aye_!" Cameron shot him a knavish grin. "S'right. More or less. Yer a smart lad, this ain't as painful as I thought it'd be. Good, now that's sorted, I'll leave ya to it, shall I?"

The Scot started to walk down the hill, leaving Arthur startled.

"What? No! Wait!" He called out, frantic. "I can't just... I don't know what I'm supposed to do _exactly_!" Truthfully, what he'd said about leaving a revolution had been a bit of a caustic remark; he'd really only been repeating aloud what he'd thought about when speaking with Elise earlier... But upon thinking about it, the pieces certainly fit. She had thought the same.

Cameron turned back towards him, shrugging. "Dun be askin' me, lad. 'ell if I know what Greg wanted ya to do, I'm just tellin' ya what I know. If it's a revolution, well; s'long as it stops th'program, it works, _aye_?"

Arthur chewed it over for a moment, glancing away from the other once more. But he remembered then what else Elise had gone on to tell him, all of a sudden; _'Promise me you won't try to do what Gregory did'_.

"I can't." He muttered, as her words replayed over in his head.

"Y'what?" Cameron ground the pick between his teeth. "Whaddya mean y'can't?" His thick brow knitted together, and he started to sound angry. "Greg didn't bring ya 'ere for yer to bail on us!"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm sorry, but there's too much trouble associated with such an idea. I can't do it alone, nor can I put the safety of others at risk."

"Th'safety o'others, lad?" Cameron's tone of voice and facial expression went deadly serious. "All o'em, all t'others yer talkin' 'bout..." He made a motion back towards the school buildings with his free hand. "...They're all gonna be made into soldiers for the U.N.'s personal use. If not, they're still trapped on a bloody island with those rogue bastards runnin' 'round. S'dangerous any way ya look at it."

He was left conflicted. Though he'd told Elise he couldn't promise her anything, nor could he promise Cameron anything now, either. It was hard to make a choice; there were pros and cons of either side he could take right now.

Seeming to pick up on Arthur's reluctance, Cameron huffed through his nose. "That, and yer got Greg's memory t'think 'bout."

Oh, how he wished he hadn't brought that up. Arthur rubbed at his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing. "It's... It's funny, you know."

"'Funny'?" Cameron repeated.

Arthur nodded. "I was just talking about this earlier with someone who seemed to think I'd been brought here for the reason you just told me of, actually." He lowered his hand and looked over at the red-haired man again. "Look. I'm devastated about this situation I'm in. I don't want to become a tool of the U.N., nor do I want to see anyone else here forced into that role. I honestly think this entire program is absolute madness. But I've been here less than a week; how the bloody hell do you expect me to lead a revolt against it?"

Cameron snorted, continuing to head down the slope with his suitcase over his shoulder; something he made look remarkably easy. "I didn't say do it straight away, now, did I? S'gonna take time, I know that." Arthur jogged to keep up with him. "But on th'other 'and, time ain't somethin' we've got a lot of."

"Then, what do you propose I do?" A heavy frown crossed Arthur's lips again. "Let's say I was to do as you're asking – hypothetically, of course. How would you suggest I do that, be it an uprising or not?"

Cameron seemed to pause in thought for a moment. "Good question, lad. Good question. My suggestion would be t'think 'bout it first. Plan out what yer gonna do, get some back-up. Don't rush into things, but don't take yer time, either."

Arthur sighed. Even though he hadn't agreed to anything yet, he still had a lot to consider. "And what about you? You seem quite adamant on handing the responsibility over to me; what are _you _going to be doing?"

"Me?" The older student cracked a grin, not stopping when he reached the bottom of the hill. "I'm gonna be takin' over the job Greg was gonna do." His hand raised, and he pointed in the direction of the south gate, where several figures that Arthur remembered as the soldiers that had escorted Berwald up to the Academy earlier on stood.

Suddenly, he realised why Cameron had been lugging the suitcase along with him. He wasn't going to be staying in the Academy. He stared straight at him. "You're crossing over?" Arthur was genuinely more surprised than he sounded.

Cameron nodded briskly. "Someone's gotta do it. And since Greg didn't make it, I'm gonna do it myself." The smirk on his face spread again. "Gonna take 'em down from the inside, like he planned. Gonna go give 'em hell."

Arthur felt his shoulders slumping a little. He genuinely was quite saddened; he'd only just met Cameron; someone who was from another British constituent country and someone he could probably relate to – and someone who seemed to have known Gregory on a personal level, as he had himself – and now the Scot was crossing over in mere minutes, so it seemed. He kept a straight face, though. He just hoped he wouldn't feel this kind of remorse every time someone left the Academy for the training facility.

"I... Wish you luck with that." He said, focusing his eyes ahead on the south gate, his voice quite hushed.

"Cheers, lad. 'ey, listen." Cameron glanced over at him. "The other three from Britain an' Ireland that're 'ere, they dunno I'm leavin'. I slipped Daffyd a note in 'is luggage when we got back 'ere from th'trip back to th'U.K. S'why I picked now to cross over. No extra packin' and unpackin' t'do." He shook his suitcase as if to point it out. "'Sides, I dun really like long g'byes, y'know."

"I see..." Muttered Arthur.

"_Aye_. Daffyd's the Welsh lad, if ya didn't figure that out yerself. Eoghan and Sean are the Irish ones; Eoghan's from Éire, Sean's from the north – dun mix 'em up. They 'ate it when ya mix 'em up. I wrote to 'em about th'plan in m'note. They'll prolly be pissed off for a few days, but give 'em time and they'll 'elp ya out if yer in need of it, m'sure."

Arthur listened to Cameron's words carefully, making sure to take note. "You've had this all planned out for some time, haven't you?"

Cameron shrugged a bit. "Greg did. I'm jus' finishin' what 'e started. But _aye_, ever since we headed out to 'is funeral, I'd been rackin' m'brain figuring out what t'do next. I think th'other three felt like it was a lost cause at th'time. But like I said, they'll come 'round."

It was understandable that they would think like that, Arthur thought; heading to the funeral of their friend that had apparently started the whole thing and kept it together (or, so he assumed from what he knew, anyway). Of course, he himself was starting to think along the same lines, the little voice in the back of his mind telling him that even though it was perhaps the only option that he or anyone else had of getting off the island free without having to first become a 'soldier', the dangers were too great.

Cameron came to a halt a good few yards from the south gate, on the very edge of what made up the Archery field. Apart from the soldiers that were there, Germania stood waiting also, unmistakable in his glinting, out-of-place armour. All eyes were on the two of them, expectant.

"Dun say anythin' more 'bout it, lad." Cameron said, his voice quiet and cautionary.

He walked forward again then, and Arthur moved to catch up. Germania strode clunking back to meet the gap between them; when the three of them all came to a halt, the blond man narrowed his eyes, scanning across the area.

"I've said m'g'byes, _sir_." Cameron spoke up, clearly noticing what the Vice Principal was looking at. "Just wanted t'meet Arthur 'fore I went over. I'm ready t'go."

Germania stared at Arthur for a moment, locking him to the spot with his ever-glowering expression, until he looked back towards Cameron, nodding slowly. "Good." He outstretched a fist towards the red-haired student, who held out his hand beneath it. Arthur watched as a small badge was dropped into Cameron's open palm – a small, oblong badge, similar to the one Berwald had attached to his coat. Except it wasn't the Swedish flag, rather, it was the white and blue saltire of the Scottish flag.

"This badge signifies your allegiance to the United Nations and willingness to become a representative of both your country and a representative of the Academy project." Germania's deep voice droned; he spoke as if he were reading off of a card. "Wearing it symbolises that you are a part of the elite peacekeeping division belonging to the United Nations. Completion of your training will qualify you as a fully-fledged ANGEL. State your name and constituent country, and repeat your vows."

Cameron's lips quirked up into a smirk, and he spoke back in the same tone as Germania; he had clearly practiced his speech. "Cameron McLeod, Scotland. I pledge allegiance t'th'United Nations 'nd th'Academy project. As a fully-fledged ANGEL, I am property o'th'peacekeepin' division o'th'United Nations 'nd am t'serve 'em to th'ability t'which th'Academy 'as and th'facility will train me."

Germania stepped to one side, and turn towards the black-clad soldiers. "Open the gate."

They did as they were instructed, creaking the two heavy slabs of the gate open. Cameron looked back at Arthur, who had almost slipped into a daze after having listened to the droning instructions and vows that had taken place, in the meantime.

"Guess this's g'bye, lad. Take care." He grinned his vast, Cheshire Cat like grin, and winked.

Arthur swallowed, his mouth dry, and gave a short nod. "Godspeed."

With that, Cameron turned back around and approached the now wide open gate in a calm, lumbering walk; the soldiers from before forming a huddled formation around him, walking him out into the woodland beyond. Arthur watched for a few moments, his eyes focused on the back of the wild red hair disappearing into the darkness of the forest at sundown. Two soldiers parted from the group and moved to close the gate, and that was the moment when Arthur decided to head back to the dorm building. He bit the inside of his lip pensively and stepped quickly back towards the tennis courts at the other end of the field, trying his best not to meet Germania's cold, lingering glower in doing so.

And so ended his first week at the Academy. Even with what had happened in his past taken into account, this had likely been the most eventful seven (or, to be precise, six and a half) days of his life. He'd never thought in a million lifetimes he'd have been put in that kind of situation by someone who he'd thought had disappeared from his past years before – being made to choose whether or not he should lead an uprising against the Academy project.

It was too much to think about; perhaps he'd been worn out from everything that had happened. He needed to do what Cameron had told him to do – he needed to take it slowly, and figure out what to do first. Perhaps if he spoke to the Welsh and Irish delegates first, he'd be able to come to a better conclusion.

He looked back, when he reached the crest of the hilltop. The gate was sealed, and Germania was no longer around; the field was still – it was almost as if nothing had taken place there, just now. Once again, as he had done when he'd first arrived, Arthur felt as if he'd been cast into a surreal dream... One that he knew he wasn't going to be waking from any time soon.

* * *

A/N: Not much to say except writing the Nordics after reading Gutters is the most depressing thing ever. I didn't reach the 10,000 word mark I'm striving for again, but the way I'm sectioning the upcoming chapters out in my head, I should be able to do it from now on, _hopefully_!

Anyhoo, thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	12. XII

A/N:

-**Tanglepelt: **Thanks for reviewing! Again, I'm afraid I can't answer your questions without giving plot details away, but I'm glad you're still enjoying the story!

-**Shaya: **Goodness! I'm sorry! I hope that was a good cry though! Haha! Thank you also, for leaving a review!

* * *

_**XII.**_

Konstantin rolled out from bed next to Aurel not much later than he had the previous morning. He left the slumbering Romanian curled up facing the wall, carefully shifting away and tip-toeing across the dorm room to the bathroom. There was light outside, but it looked as if it were a hazy, morning grey. Mongolia had probably already been up for a while, and was likely setting up the Archery field at this point, though there was still well over an hour before class was due to begin. After finishing in the bathroom and dressing in his gym kit for the lesson, he decided breakfast was probably a good idea.

He hadn't slept well that night. He usually didn't sleep badly when next to Aurel, the feeling of another there with him almost always more of a comfort than a hindrance. But he'd woken up several times during his slumber, in short bursts in which he'd be that daze where one would feel as if they were falling, and would jolt back awake when they expected to hit the ground. He wasn't sure why.

Returning to the dorm after breakfast, he found Aurel still fast asleep beneath the sheets, exactly as he'd left him. He knelt down and pulled his bow out from beneath his bed, being as quiet as he could, before heading out of the building.

The grass of the fields were still cooled from the overnight chill. He wasn't used to being early; he never knew how to approach Mongolia when he was early and there were no other students around (being late was much the opposite, there was really only one way to approach the Archery teacher when being late to his lesson – which was to keep your mouth shut for the rest of the week and pray he didn't use you in a demonstration of Catch and Fire). Thankfully this time, Mongolia was the one to approach him; he strolled across the crisp grass, causing Konstantin to stop in his tracks at the edge of area.

"You're on time, I see." Mongolia said, breaking the quiet of the atmosphere.

"Eh... No, I'm early." Konstantin replied, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

"Early is on time. On time is late." The teacher turned back around and motioned for him to follow. "That aside, you came at a good time. I have something to show you."

He lead him across to where the sacks of arrows and other supplies were placed, at the far middle of the field – where they were at a safe distance away from the targets and any practice that would take place, but at a convenient distance for anyone needing to restock on arrows or pick up a spare bow if there was a problem with their own. Mongolia picked up a dark slate-coloured metal bow. It was structured sleeker than the wooden ones, and had wire bowstring rather than the faux horsehair the Woodwork class crafted with.

"Give me your bow." Mongolia said, outstretching the metal weapon towards Konstantin. "You'll be using this one from now on."

Konstantin glanced down at the wooden bow in his own hand, then back up at Mongolia. "Why? What's wrong with the bow I have?"

"Give it here, and I'll show you."

They exchanged the weapons over. The metal bow was surprisingly just as light as the wooden one, but it felt sturdier. He watched as Mongolia picked up the wooden bow sideways, pointing a finger along the grip and arrow rest, where there were several grooves and blackened burn marks.

"The force you exert when firing an arrow is too much of a strain on your current bow. The wood will most likely snap if you use it again. This metal bow is designed for training at the facility. But since you're close to crossing over, and the wooden bow is no longer of use to you, you'll be using it from now on. These, also." Mongolia lifted up one of the bags of arrows – specifically, the one that contained long, thin metal bolts, as opposed to the flint-tipped wooden ones that filled the rest of the bags. "With these, you'll also be less of a fire hazard."

He thrust the bag brusquely towards Konstantin. He almost dropped it, only just managing to free a hand and keep hold of it and tip it back upright, so that the bolts didn't drop out.

"Thanks, I guess." He made a wry grimace.

Konstantin noted that, as he dragged himself towards a target to begin practice, Mongolia had followed behind him. He could feel the man's eyes on him, watching his movements, as was the norm for the teacher when he wanted to make sure a student was practicing correctly. It was understandable, in that respect, but Konstantin couldn't help but find it disturbing how close his gaze remained, paired with how quick the man's wits were known to be. Yes, he was the only student present at the time, but he was still top of the class – did Mongolia really think he was going to do something wrong, just from switching to a metal bow and arrows?

He tried not to look back at the teacher, and heaved the bag over his shoulder. After which, he raised the new bow into position, aligning it with the target; trying his absolute best to keep his attention on that, which proved to come naturally. He inhaled a deep breath through his nose and whipped out one of the metal bolts from over his shoulder, putting it into place on the bow and pulling back on the wire string, quickly, fluidly; pressing it into the tip of his chin. Upon its release, the thin metal sliver shot straight through the air, cutting it with a hissing noise and landing bang-smack in the centre of the bullseye.

As he lowered the bow again, his ears picked up on Mongolia stepping forward, until he was just behind his right shoulder. He didn't look, but he imagined he was narrowing his eyes through his spectacles, observing the shot from Konstantin's own point of view, more or less.

"Even an armoured helmet would have been pierced by that." Mongolia said. To Konstantin's relief, he moved back from him, whilst adding in a telling tone of voice, "Although, I expect you to aim for between the eyes."

Konstantin frowned, turning his head towards the teacher. "What do you mean you 'expect me' to do that?"

Mongolia's face was for the most part as unchanged as usual when he answered, though he did raise his eyebrow slightly – an unusual look, for him. "Your aim is without flaw. The strength you expel in your shot is devastating." For a second, it seemed as if a small smile was going to twitch onto his face; though it didn't, which was just as well. "The very least you can do is give your enemies a painless death."

The unpleasant memory of Saturday flooded back into Konstantin's mind (not that it had ever really left), and he stared at Mongolia, not sure of how to answer to that.

"I don't want to give them death at all..." He muttered, trying to shake the replaying vision of him shooting down the rogues out of his mind.

Mongolia walked back across the field, and didn't reply; which was, to Konstantin, perhaps the most perturbing part of their conversation.

* * *

When Arthur had roused from sleep on Monday morning, he had thought for sure that his time at the Academy wasn't going to get any stranger.

Archery class proceeded as it had done over the last week – the only thing out of the ordinary was that Konstantin was in possession of a metal bow and bolts, rather than the wooden versions the rest of the class used. When Arthur had asked him about it, he had given a shrug and had explained it was 'less of a fire hazard'. Arthur's recollection of the way Konstantin had almost set every standard arrow he'd shot alight (from the friction against the bow no doubt) was vivid; it made perfect sense, and after seeing how fast, how almost bullet-like the metal bolts were, he wondered why the older student hadn't been given that weaponry set much earlier on.

It was during Cookery class, in the second period, when things began to take a more eccentric turn.

There were two boys in the class that Arthur didn't recognise at first. They were both very similar looking; they must have been blood brothers, there was no doubt about that. He didn't need to think about it for very long until he remembered that the Principal – who had taken his two grandsons with him on his trip to deal with Gregory's death and investigation – had returned to the school the previous day. He couldn't help but think of Cameron, after coming to that conclusion. Because of which, he decided not to think much of the two brunet boys that were talking with Antonio before class had begun. Arthur walked to his usual place on the bench he shared with two girls.

Moments later, however, his plan had failed quite quickly.

"Hey, you! New guy! That's-a my place!"

Arthur had sat down, and opened his bag to take out his Cookery textbook. Glancing up, he saw the older-looking of the two brothers had appeared; he was stood around the other side of the bench and frowning down at him. The obvious owner of the curt, Italian accented voice, Arthur merely cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Really? I'm terribly sorry, no one told me." He replied, knowing he didn't sound sorry at all.

"Well it is, and I want it back." The brunet folded his arms.

Arthur didn't particularly want to move, now he was seated and his bag was open. "Do you, now?" He gave the Italian a scornful look. "Perhaps asking nicely would help."

He got a hissed noise that sounded like a '_tch_' in response. "Asking nicely? Who the hell do you think you are, bastardo!?"

Oh, he was one of _those _types. And it was Monday morning. _Wonderful_.

"I could ask you the same!" Arthur snorted.

Before the debate could get any further, Elise came over and interrupted the brunet, before he could form another comeback.

"Hey, what's all the fuss about?" She asked, tapping the Italian on the shoulder, gaining his immediate attention.

"This eyebrow guy's in my place!" The brunet complained, sounding a lot like a child whining like a snitch to an adult.

Elise made a quiet tutting sound, putting on a smile. "Lovi, this is Arthur. I told you about him yesterday, remember?"

Arthur didn't know what to think of the fact that she'd been talking about him to other students; though he made the assumption that they'd probably been talking about the rogue attacks or Gregory and they'd gotten onto the topic through association, or something like that. Why else would Elise have been telling this 'Lovi' kid about him?

The Italian's frown turned into more of a disgruntled pout, and he moved his gaze from Elise back to Arthur, his eyes filling with frustration once more. He lowered his tone of voice to a dejected grumble, "Whatever. He's still in my place."

Elise's smile dropped. "Come on, Lovi. He didn't know. He's only been here a week, and you've been away, and there's no seating plan to begin with."

Arthur began to notice several others in the class were picking up on the argument, their heads turning in their direction. He decided to shut his bag and stand back up, before a scene was caused. "It's alright, Elise." He said, his dry tone of voice implying that it wasn't alright at all. "If he wants to sit here so badly, I'll just have to move." He thinned his eyes when looking back towards the other male student. "A polite request would have been enough, though."

Elise looked expectantly at the brunet, whose glare didn't leave Arthur's face. Just as he was ready to move, she sighed, "Thanks, Arthur."

The back benches were entirely unoccupied, and hence Arthur was sat alone when he moved there. He didn't really care too much, it was more the rude tone the Italian had taken with him when asking him to move.

However, as class started and progressed, the matter became rather trivial.

Hungary was at her wit's end with Francis, so it seemed. The Frenchman did have a tendency to interrupt and correct her on certain things she was trying to explain ('_ma belle, _the egg whites must be folded in very delicately!', or '_mon ange,_ the water must be boiling at an exact temperature!', or – as was in this case – '_non, non, mon cher_! You do not cut the peppers at such an angle!'). By the end of it, Hungary seemed so frustrated, she didn't even seem to have a desire to wave her frying pan at him threateningly.

"Well then!" She puffed out her chest, stepping to the side of her desk and making an overdramatic motion towards it. "Since France is so _eager_ to _inform us all _on _how we should be doing things_..." She put a bitter, sarcastic emphasis on her words, speaking through clenched teeth. "...I think he should come up and demonstrate to us all!"

Francis didn't seem to want to miss an opportunity to show off, apparently. He strolled out from behind his seat, and waltzed straight up towards the front desk. "My pleasure." He said softly to Hungary as he passed her with a smile, though it didn't earn him one in response.

The rest of the class gathered around the desk so that they could get a better view. Until then, Arthur had realised he had never actually watched Francis working in his subject of preference – he'd been too distracted through the previous week trying to make sure his own food wasn't burning... _Too _badly.

"You see, _mon amies_, the correct way to cut _Julienne _is like this." He took a carrot from one the side of the workspace and a knife from the other. He held the vegetable upright, and at that moment, Arthur blinked; when he opened his eyes, the carrot had been sliced into thin strips that tumbled down off their original shape like a crumbling tower. He blinked again then, not sure he had seen that right.

Hungary snorted from the opposite side of the group. "Slower, France, if you wouldn't mind. We need to actually be able to see it."

Francis gave a dramatic sigh. "Slower? Slower is no use when you are pushed for time in the kitchen!" He took another carrot in hand anyway.

_'Or on the battlefield'_, Arthur added mentally, and bitterly. He hated to admit it, but Francis did have a point in that respect. Learning how to cut vegetables in a certain style was useful – if the students were intended to graduate the Academy and proceed to have normal lives. But they weren't. In fact, he would have thought cutting something into pieces in split seconds was the more favourable skill to have in a place like that.

Francis put the new carrot into place, and waved the knife quickly – but of course, not as quickly as he had done before – about the vegetable, almost like he was waving a wand in upwards and downwards strokes. Again, the small, perfectly formed batons of carrot fell down to the board below in a neat pile. All the while, Francis looked astonishingly bored.

It was impressive, and again, Arthur really didn't want to think that about Francis, but he couldn't deny what he had done – both times – was very skilled.

When Francis put the knife back down, Hungary stepped up to the desk and took a few of the carrot sticks, handing them to the student at the end of the huddled line. "Everyone, pass these around and have a look. Take note of how clean the cuts are."

There was clapping, then. Loud clapping, from behind the group. "Very impressive, France!" A voice entirely unfamiliar to Arthur spoke up, and every eye in the classroom glanced over at the source. A bulky, tanned middle-aged man wearing – dare Arthur think anyone else but Germania was strange enough to wear it around the school – _full body armour_ had entered the classroom. "_Salve_, everyone!" He grinned.

A few steps away from Arthur was the younger of the two brunet Italian brothers, whom instantly waved his hands at the man, speaking up in obvious excitement, "_Nonno_!"

"Feli!" The man exclaimed, with just as much mirth, moving around the outside of the group and giving the boy – without doubt his grandson – a ruffle of his hair.

Looks of confusion, amusement – and in one or two cases, both – were plain to see on the other students faces as this happened. Hungary, meanwhile, was smiling, and cleared her throat then.

"_Szia_, Principal Rome! It's nice of you to drop by the class." She sounded like she was possibly a little aggravated by him disrupting the lesson, but she was hiding it quite well on her face. "Is there something you needed?"

So, this was the Principal? Arthur realised that actually made quite a lot of sense.

"Ah! Yes, Hungary, actually, there is." The man replied. "I was wondering if I could borrow England for the rest of your lesson?"

Arthur froze up a bit in surprise. Hungary gave a quick nod.

"Sure, that's not a problem." She replied.

"Wonderful. Now, which one is England?" The Principal beamed, glancing around the group of students.

As most stares began to fall onto Arthur, he tensed his shoulders and raised his arm. "Erm. That would be me."

The man stepped away from the younger Italian. "Excellent! Follow me." He motioned for Arthur to follow him, before clunking in his armour back towards the classroom door. "_Ciao, _Feli! _Ciao_, everyone!" Apparently the older of the brothers was grouped in with 'everyone', Arthur noted, trying not to find that fact slightly amusing. He didn't get to take a look back at the bad-tempered student that he'd been arguing with just before.

"_Ciao, nonno_!" His younger grandson called back.

Arthur's mind was filled with various thoughts, as he walked in the wake of the Principal. If Germania looked as if he'd come straight off the set of Lord of the Rings, this man looked like he'd come straight off the set of Gladiator. And he went by the title of _Rome_, to boot. He didn't know whether the two senior members of staff were simply doing it for effect, or whether they really believed they were actually Roman or Germanic warriors. He thought it best not to ask. He also couldn't help but wonder why exactly he'd been plucked out of class, but that was a question that soon had an answer.

"Do you like technology, England?" Rome lead him to the closest end of the first floor corridor to the doors, where a staircase at the side lead to below-ground classrooms. "I don't do technology myself." He stepped down the staircase, the echoes of armour chinking against the hard floor bouncing off the narrow walls. "My grandsons have tried to teach me before, I think I'm probably a lost cause!" He chuckled.

Arthur continued to follow, waiting until he'd finished talking before replying. "...Yes, I do like it, actually." He wanted to know why the Principal was asking, but he had a feeling it wasn't long before he'd find out.

"Good!" Rome said brightly. "That's great! I didn't want to introduce you to the Technology class without you being interested at all."

Technology class? Arthur didn't remember that being one of the options. He frowned at this thought.

The corridor below ground was lit well with electrical lights, despite it being plain and narrow. Unlike the ones above, there were only two large doors marking the entrance to the classroom – labled _'Technology Room'_. It appeared to be the only classroom on the subterranean level of that building. Rome knocked on the door to this one, rather than just walking straight in as he had seemed to have done in the Cookery class.

When they stood at the doors, Arthur noticed there was a small slot on one the Principal was directly in front of. After a few moments, this slot opened, revealing a pair of eyes behind it, which came as a shock to Arthur.

"Ah." A soft voice emerged from the other side of the door, and the slot closed again. Then followed the sound of the bolt being undone, and shortly after, the door was pulled open. Stood inside was a slender, young-looking East Asian man, whom stood an inch or two shorter than Arthur, and respectively looked rather small in comparison to Rome's bulky figure. He was dressed in what appeared to be a white lab coat; and though there were several other of the coats visibly speckled around the large room inside, Arthur could tell this man was the teacher of the class, as he had spotted him around the school once or twice before – minus the scientific garb – in plain clothes. Despite the fact that he seemed at first glance like he was perhaps only old enough to be a student, the man had an upright posture, and there was a definite glint of wisdom in his otherwise dark, dull eyes that just wasn't typical of anyone in Arthur's age bracket. "Good morning, Principal." He said to Rome, his voice mellow; just loud enough to hear.

"_Salve_!" The Principal replied. "I brought you your new student!" With that, he gave Arthur a hard pat on the back, which almost made him lurch forward off-balance. "Well. _Potential_ new student, anyway."

Arthur made an _'urk'_ noise, the wind knocked out of him a bit. But he was more concerned about what Rome had just said. What did he mean by 'potential new student'? Why was he wanted in this class?

The teacher in the lab coat studied Arthur for a moment. "I see."

"I've got to get back to my class." Rome continued. "Could you show him around? I'll come back for him at the end."

"Of course." Replied the man.

The Principal grinned, gave his thanks to the other staff member, and with that, he headed back down the hallway, his armour continuing to clunk and echo; Arthur left standing awkwardly in the doorway to the room.

"Please come inside." The teacher said.

He did as he was told. The Technology classroom was much bigger than he'd expected on first glance – it was so vast, the class looked sparse and empty; there were three students in the room, all in their crisp white coats. The room had no windows (of course, as this was a basement classroom), and so everything was lit with large bright, artificial strip lights embedded in the ceiling. Several long wooden benches were in the middle of the room, and one female student was sat at one, examining a very intricate blueprint and taking notes from it onto a separate piece of paper. There was a harsh whirring noise, like someone was using a chainsaw nearby, but Arthur couldn't tell where its source was.

The teacher shut the door and put the bolt back into place, before turning his attention back to Arthur. "Welcome to the Technology class, England."

He halted his quick examination to look back over at the man. "Oh, erm. Thank you?" He tried to sound as confused as he genuinely was, in hopes that he would pick up on it and explain what was going on.

A faint smile crossed the teacher's face. "I am Japan. It is a pleasure to meet you. Please, come this way."

To Arthur's surprise, the man lead him straight past the desks that made up the majority of the classroom. They walked to another heavy-looking set of two doors; it sounded as if the grating churning noise was coming from behind them. Unlike the front door, they didn't have a lock or bolt, and so Japan pushed them open with ease.

Stepping inside the next room, it was difficult for Arthur to believe he was still in the Academy at all. Whereas the initial section of the Technology class had been large enough already, the next part seemed like it encompassed the entire floorspace of practically every classroom on the level above; perhaps five or six of them, were he to estimate. The gleaming strip lights were still present, but the vast difference in this room was that it was filled with machines – or, rather, what looked like large tools for crafting and metal work, as that was what several more of the lab coat-clad students were busying themselves with. The noise was near-deafening; several instances of clashing, banging, creaking, and groaning throughout. The whirring noise was coming from one machine nearby in particular – and the student manning it had protective gloves, a dirtied apron and a goggled helmet on. It looked as if he were cutting a slab of metal, for there were several sparks coming from the piece of machinery, making it look rather like the student was stooping over to fill the jaws of a great bionic dragon with steel food. But after watching that, Arthur wasn't sure where to look. Just a little further on, where there were more desks – or rather, workbenches – in the centre of the room (out of the way of the mechanicary), a familiar face was using a small hand tool to weld together two pieces of electrical wire. Despite the fact that this student was also in goggles and protective gloves, and the attentive gaze, more focused than Arthur had ever seen him, it was obvious who he was. It was Alfred.

Japan turned towards Arthur again. "This is our practical classroom. Here, we construct many items for use around the Academy, the training facility and the town." It was hard to hear his voice over all the noise, but Arthur gave him his full attention and tuned in. "As you can see, we use a variety of machines to produce a variety of different products. Often, the class draw up their own blueprints and designs and make edits to the bases that already exist. The objective of the class is to understand and produce technological items."

"Erm. That's all well and good, but-" Arthur's sentence was cut short as another student nearby started hammering, causing him to wince. The entire ruckus of the class was getting on his nerves.

Luckily, Japan noticed this. "Ah. Perhaps we should move back into the other room to talk."

Once they were back past the dividing doors, the teacher shut them again, muffling the noise and keeping in the quiet of the initial section of the class. He offered for Arthur a seat at one of the empty benches.

"I apologise. It does get very loud at times in the practical room."

"Ah, no, that's alright..." Arthur half-muttered, having not expected an apology for it. "Erm..." He paused to remember his initial question. "Why am I here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Technology is a nominated class." Japan replied, his voice just as calm and unchanged as before. "Although entirely optional, you are here because you have been recommended to take the class by a member of staff."

Arthur blinked in confusion. He'd only been there a week – who out of the teachers knew him well enough for them to recommend he take the class? "I see. Do you know who it was?"

Japan gave a slight nod of the head. "Yes. From the notes I received, it was Miss Hungary."

"...Miss Hungary?" Arthur repeated, cocking an eyebrow and sounding quite taken aback.

"Yes, Miss Hungary." Another faint smile crossed Japan's face. "She said you were quite talented with pyrotechnics."

Arthur, making a face at that, didn't know whether to be insulted or not. "_Oh_." Perhaps it was just him, but it sounded a lot like Hungary just wanted him out of her class more than anything. _'Tch, 'pyrotechnics', bloody hell!'_ he thought bitterly, _'I didn't set fire to those croissants _that _badly!'_

"It is a unique area of expertise to have." Japan added.

"Erm... I see." Arthur said. Japan had actually sounded a little enthusiastic, to him, and so he didn't want to burst his bubble and explain what Hungary had actually (probably) meant.

"Of course, as I said, this class is entirely optional, though it will replace your second period lesson. Perhaps you would like some time to think about it?" Japan went on to say.

Arthur nodded. Whereas he didn't particularly want to give up Cookery, seeing as how it was something he enjoyed (in spite of apparently not being as good as he had previously thought at it), he didn't yet know if perhaps this Technology class was a good opportunity. "I'd appreciate that, yes."

"Very well." The teacher made his way to one of the cupboards nearby, and took out what looked like a textbook, handing it to Arthur. "This may help... Ah, if you would excuse me, though; I do need to check on the class..."

Arthur gave another nod of the head and thanked him, turning his attention to the book, which was headed _**'Technology Blueprints'**_, with _'the Academy Project students' copies'_ subtitled beneath it. Once Japan had disappeared back into the loud practical section of the classroom, Arthur looked over at the girl sat a few benches in front of him. She was still working on blueprints, and he now realised they were from the same book he had been given. His interest piqued, he opened the first page, and found a disclaimer.

_This copy of the **Technology Blueprints **designed by the Academy Project is for student use only._

_In no way, shape or form must it be reproduced for any use outside of the Academy Project._

_The blueprints in this book have been selected from the master copy of **Academy Project Automata**, written and compiled by Clinton Pane and Kiku Honda. _

_This book is designed for student use in the production of technology, machinery, robotics and weaponry to be used only within the borders of Pangaea, unless permission is otherwise given._

There was that name again – Clinton Pane. Hadn't he been the guy who originally had been the head of the Academy Project, but had died? Arthur remembered his ongoing search for more information on the Giga Neuro Project, and moving his attention to the next name – Kiku Honda – he had a feeling that this was a good lead. He made a mental note of it.

The next page was the table of contents. It was split into the four sections mentioned in the disclaimer: Technology, Machinery, Robotics and Weaponry. The last one in particular caught Arthur's interest; there should have been no need for weapons at a school, but from what Japan had said, he assumed they were for the training facility to use. Perhaps then, they were merely training weapons. He turned to the relevant page to find out.

How wrong he was.

The first few Weaponry blueprints weren't technology as such; they were metalcraft – swords and knives, and bows that resembled the one Konstantin had in Archery class that morning. He guessed that one had been made in this class, seeing as how the wooden bows were crafted in Woodwork class respectively. Those he supposed he could overlook. What he really didn't like was what filled the rest of the pages. _Guns_. Various detailed blueprints and step-by-step instructions on how to construct several different types of hand guns, shot guns, rifles, and the like. And not just the definition of what Arthur would have considered a firearm for training – actual _guns _that were designed for _live ammo_. He felt rather ill, wondering why students were the ones who had to apparently make these... And for what purpose, if they were only going to be used on the island? There was a Shooting class; he knew, as both Elise and Alfred were in it, but Elise had told him they used mock weaponry for practise. Were they stockpiling the real thing, then, to defend against attacks from the rogues?

Flicking through the rest of the book didn't help clear his mind. The more Arthur thought about the Academy – no, about _Pangaea _as a whole – the more dangerous a place it seemed. He was genuinely starting to consider what Cameron had told him the evening before. It wasn't really a matter of being stuck on an island and not being able to go home any more. And if an uprising did occur, would anyone dare hurt the students to crush it? He didn't know who or what was in the training facility, which was why he was reluctant to risk it. He needed to know more, before making his final decision.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Japan returned, opening the separating doors and letting the noise of commotion pour in for a few moments again. He approached, but said nothing; Arthur shut the book and looked up at him to signify that he'd finished reading.

"Have you made your decision yet, England?"

That hadn't been the thing Arthur had been thinking about, and so he took a few moments more to think it over. This class could – potentially – give him more insight into what went on at the training facility; as much as he liked Cookery class, he didn't think this was an opportunity he could let pass.

He nodded to the teacher. "I have. I've decided that I'd like to join this class."

* * *

Rome came for Arthur just before second period was over, as he said he would. They both gave their goodbyes and thanks to Japan before leaving the classroom and the basement hallway. The Principal lead him back up to the main corridor above.

"There's another class I'd like you to see, too." Rome grinned, pretty happy that Arthur had adhered to the idea of joining the Technology class. "In the other building, the last room on the first floor hallway. You know how to get there, right?" He only needed a slight nod from Arthur as an answer. "Great! Well, I better be going. I'm sure Hungary won't mind you back in her class for five more minutes."

With that, he left again, as if he were in a hurry... Which he probably was – had had said earlier he had a class to attend to. Was that the one he wanted him to see? Arthur had other things to think about than something he'd find out in less than half an hour, though. He returned to the Cookery class, explained his situation to Hungary (in somewhat of an ungrateful undertone), and took a seat back in his place for the rest of the lesson, as everyone else evaluated their cut vegetables.

"Hey, Arthur. What was that all about?" Elise asked him, once the class was dismissed.

He collected his bag that he'd left in the room and took the Cookery textbook out of it before swinging it over his back. "They wanted me to join another class."

"Oh. Did you?" He somehow felt like the light disappointment in her voice was fake.

"I did." His eyes slid far behind her – towards Hungary, who was at her desk writing something – for a moment, his expression becoming rigid. "Apparently I'm 'quite good with pyrotechnics', so I decided my talents suited the Technology class more." He said bitterly.

Elise chuckled. "That class, huh? You're pretty lucky, not many get nominated for it."

"So I heard." He looked back at her, remembering something, all of a sudden. "The Principal wants me to go to see another class after break, anyway. But first, there's something else I have to do."

They walked to the front of the classroom. Arthur left the textbook on Hungary's desk, who thanked him and said goodbye to them both. Once they were out of the room, Elise spoke up again.

"What is it you have to do?" She looked mildly concerned.

He lowered his voice a bit, "That soldier bloke who came back from the training facility. I want to have a look at that sword he's carrying."

"Berwald?" She said, surprised. "You're just going to go up to him and ask to see his sword? I... Don't think that's going to work, somehow."

"No, I'm not going to ask. I'm going to look from a distance." Arthur had heard the talk going around the common room about the soldier being stationed outside the steps of the front building. He'd also heard that one or two students had eavesdropped on the janitor and the reception lady talking about the times he'd be out there – from after classes were over, to seven at night; from eleven o'clock at night, to five o'clock in the morning; from eight o'clock in the morning to the start of third period, giving him time to eat and sleep in between. Which meant Arthur only had fifteen minutes to look, or he'd have to wait until after class.

"Alright, but why?" Elise asked.

"I want to know if it's the same one I saw blueprints for in the Technology class." He explained. "I expect that it is, but I want to make sure."

She shrugged. "I'm pretty sure it is. Almost every weapon on the island is supposedly made in that class. The guns we use in Shooting class are all from there."

He frowned pensively. "I figured those were mock weapons."

"Oh, they are. More or less." She added, as they stepped out of the hallway and into the warm mid-morning sunshine. "We don't use real bullets, either. And the teacher's pretty serious, I don't think anyone would do anything stupid on purpose in his lesson."

So he'd been wrong in his assumption back in the Technology classroom, then. "Hmn..." He droned. "Well, yes, of course. But... You don't suppose they keep the actual weapons and live ammo here, do you?"

She paused, and then shook her head. "Well, I think they probably have to. Especially with those rogues around still. It'd be a bad idea not to."

Arthur supposed that as long as they weren't being used for practise, the reason for the Academy to keep them was good enough.

Berwald was stood in the exact place he was expected to be in. Arthur and Elise reached the foyer and peered out of one of the front windows, finding him right at his post in front of the steps. He stood so still, it was almost like a life-size, cast iron statue had been erected in front of the building. Unfortunately, there was one glaring problem with watching from the window.

"I can't see the sword from here." Arthur muttered quietly, stepping towards the front doors.

Elise hurried after him. "So you're just going to walk out and ask to see it?"

"Not at all." He He went down the steps carefully, leaving her standing in the open threshold. He only went halfway down before standing still, leaning over and focusing on the now visible sword. It was nearly as long as Berwald was tall – which was _long_ – though it seemed to be of a normal thickness and was encased in a black sheath. Arthur couldn't tell if it was the same as any as he'd seen in the blueprints. Frowning, he walked back up to the doors.

"Oh, hey Elise, hey Arthur." Just as soon as he did, Tino appeared at the doorway as well. "What're you guys doing here?"

Elise spoke before Arthur could, "Arthur wanted to look at Berwald's sword. He wanted to see if it was one of the ones the Technology class makes."

Tino gave a half-smile, looking at Arthur. He didn't seem as happy as he usually did, but it was pretty clear why. "Actually, it's a modified version of Sword VC. Søren and I made it for him, a month before he crossed over. Why do you ask?"

Arthur shrugged. "Curiosity, I suppose." Tino's answer only made another question spring to mind, though. "Were you allowed to do that?"

"We had to go to Principal Rome for permission. It's a good thing he's such an easy going guy."

Arthur and Elise moved back inside, whilst Tino stayed in the open doorway.

"I never saw Berwald with it before he crossed over." Elise said.

"He kept it safe in his dorm after we gave it to him. Until he left, that is. It was sort of like our goodbye present to him. Emil and Lukas helped with some of the ideas, too." The smile on the Finnish student's face became saddened. "We think he really cherished it."

Elise, picking up on Tino's melancholic demeanour, glanced out of the glass door at Berwald. "You know, I think he still does cherish it."

Tino forced the smile further. "I guess you're right."

Arthur looked out at the figure of Berwald as well. After hearing what Tino had said, he felt a little bad for having thought that sword was a mass-produced weapon given to the soldier by the training facility for combat purposes; although he was sure that was the case for many of the weapons that came out of the Technology class, there was a meaning behind the one in Berwald's possession. It had been a farewell gift – it was probably intended to keep Berwald safe, rather than strike others down.

"Oh yeah, I saw you in Technology class today, Arthur. You're going to join, aren't you?" Tino went on to say.

Arthur nodded. "I am. I didn't see you though, I'm afraid."

Tino laughed lightly. "I was at the back in the practical room. I'm working on a big project with Alfred and Eduard at the moment. It's going pretty well, too."

"That's good to hear." Elise said.

"Yeah, I came to tell Berwald about our progress." Once again, the Finnish student's expression waned. "So, I guess I'll see you guys around?"

Elise looked as if she was fighting off a frown, herself. "Sure. See you, Tino."

They didn't leave straight away, after shutting the foyer doors behind Tino. They watched him take a seat on the bottom step, to the left of where Berwald stood; apparently beginning what must've seemed to him like a perfectly normal conversation with the statuesque man, though it was inaudible.

"You know... I think Tino's and the other three are lucky they got to see Berwald again." Elise began, after a few moments of silence between them had passed. "But, in a way, they're also kind of unlucky because of it..."

"I see what you mean." Arthur muttered in response.

"That's why we do it, Arthur. Mostly. That's why most of us agree to cross over... It's the only hope we have left of seeing the friends and family who chose to do it before us. But, now..." Her voice trailed off.

He broke his stare outside and looked over at her, knowing what she had been about to say. "Now you've seen what it does to a person, you don't want it to happen at all."

She sighed, shaking her head. "I didn't want it to happen at all in the first place. No one does, but that's our fate. It's sealed. We can either do that, or be trapped on this island forever."

Arthur, finding her words to be more saddening than the scene with Berwald and Tino outside, paused in thought, then replied bluntly, "Funnily enough, I've never believed in fate, myself."

She met his gaze, her eyes wide and glossed over. "No?"

"No."

For a few moments longer, they retained eye contact, in silence. A small smile pressed at the edges of Elise's lips, then, and she looked away, as if she were trying to hide it. "Thanks."

He didn't quite know why she was thanking him, but that wasn't the only thing he couldn't understand at that moment. Arthur said nothing more, his mind trying to comprehend why, at that moment, his heart was beating faster than usual.

* * *

The western class building was already an area Arthur was familiar with. The layout of both the west and east buildings were near identical, and simple enough, and so it didn't take him long to arrive at the last room on the first floor corridor. He'd never actually been down that hallway previously, though; his Music class was held on the floor above, but the spacious rooms on that level were for the practical combat classes that weren't held outdoors – Kickboxing and Swordsmanship. It seemed Arthur was summoned by the Principal to be there for the latter.

The door was open, and there were students in the room already, but Rome was no where in sight. He glanced around a couple of times, before stepping inside the room, one or two pairs of eyes glancing up; their owners seated on the floor in small gangs, a wooden sword in each of their possessions. Feeling awkward, shuffling inside with no real idea of why he was there (apart from a sneaking suspicion of him being moved into yet another class), Arthur scanned the room once more, suddenly spotting a hand waving at him from the back of a small group.

"_Hej_! Arthur!" It was Søren, seated unceremoniously on the floor next to Emil and a couple of other male students Arthur didn't know. "Over here!"

"Morning." He muttered in greeting to the group, after making his way towards them. The boy opposite Emil made room for him to sit.

"Are you moving into the class?" Søren proceeded to ask, grinning.

Arthur gave a shrug after he'd taken a seat. "I don't know. The Principal told me to come here after break." It was odd, seeing Søren with just Emil and not Lukas; he tried not to think of Berwald, then. "Erm. Is Lukas not in this class?"

"He has it second period." Emil replied half-heartedly, focused on picking at the handle of his wooden sword with the fingernail of his thumb rather than on Arthur.

"Oh. I see." Arthur replied, meeting Emil's uninterested tone.

"Yeah, small class, according to him." Søren added, his grin turning to a pensive frown for a second. "Oh, hey, speaking of which, he said Cameron and Jovan weren't in the class today. Weird, huh?"

Arthur very almost opened his mouth to tell Søren what had happened to Cameron, but decided against it. He knew that Cameron had probably wanted him to keep quiet about it. Luckily, the boy next to Arthur spoke up instead.

"I heard that Jovan was the one shot on Saturday." His accent was Southern European sounding, but Arthur couldn't put his finger on exactly where he was from; he was also rather soft-spoken. "And that Kosta was the other one there when it happened."

"What!? No way, Jovan and Kosta wouldn't hang around with each other outside of class!" Søren responded, looking shocked.

The student between the Southern European and Søren added next, "He has a good point." To Arthur's surprise, it was a female voice – deep, but female nonetheless – and when he looked over, he saw that despite the short black hair that had made him assume she was a boy upon an off-hand glance, her face had feminine features, particularly full, defined lips. She also had very dark skin, and though she was slimmer than most the men surrounding her, she appeared to be of a similar height to Emil, at least. Arthur felt guilty for having thought she was a boy, but glad he had known she was a girl before making a verbal assumption.

"It does not make much sense, I know." The Southern European said. "But then, has anyone seen Jovan since last week?"

"Eh. We're not his friends, so we don't really think about it." Søren replied, apparently answering on behalf of Emil as well.

"Wouldn't we know something like that if it was true, for sure?" The girl asked.

Emil glanced up from his sword. "But, if it wasn't him, then who was it?"

At that moment, Rome strode into the room, clapping his hands together and announcing loudly, "_Salve_, class! Everyone on your feet!"

Arthur saw all of the students around him stand up, and so he followed suit. The Principal took a good look around the small groups that were shuffling to merge into a larger one, consisting of just over a dozen people in total. His eyes fell on Arthur, and his grin went flat.

"England, why aren't you in your gym kit?"

Arthur began to feel everyone looking at him again, which he didn't appreciate. "Erm." He spluttered. "You didn't tell me I had to wear it."

"But this is Swordsmanship!" Rome made a large gesture with his hands. "Why didn't you _assume_ you had to come in your gym kit?"

Not knowing whether that question was rhetorical or not, Arthur's brow knitted together, and he spoke slowly to the Principal, as if he were having trouble understanding him, "Because I didn't 'assume' I was going to be taking part?"

Rome grinned again, almost interrupting the end of Arthur's sentence. "Not to worry, just go back to your dorm and change, okay?" He looked over the other students. "The rest of you, I want you to all find your sparring partners and continue practising the technique I showed you on Friday!"

He clapped his hands together again and Arthur left the room, the rest of the class doing as they were instructed. The hallways were nearly empty at that time; almost everyone had got to their lessons by now, only a small few latecomers jogging quickly (or doing much the opposite) to get to their classrooms. He decided that he could take his time in getting to the boys' dorm, and so chose to take a leisurely walk out of the west class building.

By the time he was in his kit and back at the Swordsmanship room, the class was in full swing. The students were all practising, and now had protective armour over their chests and knees and elbows. Rome, however, wasn't present – which Arthur found quite irresponsible of a teacher of what could potentially have been a very dangerous class.

"_Olá_, England?" The Southern European's voice from before said. Arthur looked towards the source and saw a young man an inch or so taller than himself, tanned and broad-shouldered, with long, wavy brown hair, most of which was held back in a messy ponytail. He hadn't gotten a good look at him previously, but if he had thought that the short-haired girl from before was a boy at first glance, he'd have thought this guy to have been female, had he not noticed how tall and muscular and heavy-jawed he was.

"Yes?" Arthur replied.

The other man held out one of the wooden swords in his hands to him with a smile. "Here; Principal Rome told me to show you a few of the basics whilst he's out of the class."

"Oh. Erm, thank you." Arthur muttered, taking the sword by its hilt. He then followed the other student towards the edge of the room. "You don't suppose you know why he's out, do you? I mean, this class seems like it could be awfully dangerous."

"No, no, don't worry; it's not dangerous... Not if you wear these, anyway." The Southern European leant down and picked up a protective chest plate from a pile at the side of the practise area, before handing it over to Arthur. "I'll show you how to put it on."

He made Arthur lift his arms and slid the piece of protective gear on over them, before fastening it behind his back. It was light, and probably just made of plastic and foam – nothing quite as remarkable as Rome's own armour – but for a class that used wooden swords, it did the trick. At least, Arthur hoped it did.

"The Principal left about five minutes ago. A student was sent to inform him of a fight down by the tennis courts." He continued to explain, picking up the elbow shields and letting Arthur put those on by himself. "I don't think he had any choice but to go to see. Don't worry, this doesn't happen often."

"I see..." Muttered Arthur, fixing the next part of the armour on, having to hand his sword back to the other momentarily to free his hands to do so. He hadn't seen or heard of any signs of a fight when he'd gone to the boys' dorm building, or when he'd come back from it; then again, he hadn't been nearby to the tennis courts. Based on the location, he wondered perhaps if it had anything to do with Jovan or Konstantin, or both of them... But then he remembered what Søren, Emil and the other two had been talking about. If Jovan really had been the one who was shot, then he wouldn't have been involved... But having thought about that, Arthur recalled that Jovan had been the fastest student in the school. Then why had the rogues been able to shoot him? Something didn't add up there, and it added another question to the never-ending pile Arthur was stacking up in his mind.

"Um... England?" The other student asked, the knee guards in hand and an amused smile on his face.

Arthur shook his head, realising he'd spaced out for a moment there, staring off into nothing in thought and snapping his gaze back towards the taller man. "Yes? What?"

The Southern European chuckled. "Here. You need these on too. After that you'll be ready to practise."

He took the knee guards and leant down, clicking them into place on his knee caps. "Right... Thanks." He mumbled, feeling a little abashed at having been preoccupied by his thoughts there. "Call me Arthur, by the way."

The other student nodded above him. "Art'ur." He repeated, his accent subtracting the 'th' sound.

Arthur glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow, halfway through clipping on his other knee guard. "Ar_th_ur."

He tried again. "Ar_z_ur?"

A frown crossed Arthur's mouth. That sounded just like how Francis pronounced his name, which he didn't appreciate. "You know what? 'Art'ur' is fine."

The Southern European laughed again. "Alright. I am Paulo."

Once the knee guard was in place, Arthur took the sword back in hand. "A pleasure." He said. He still didn't know _exactly_ where the other student was from. He wanted to guess Spain, but he knew that Antonio was the Spanish delegate. He decided, however, to put that question to one side.

Paulo smiled. "Ready?"

Arthur nodded.

"Very good. First, let me see your grip on the hilt."

He held out his arm, his fingers clenched tight around the handle. Paulo examined his hold, loosening his fingers and shifting their positions slightly.

"Not bad for a beginner." He said. "Your hold wasn't perfect originally, but it would have been sturdy enough. Do you take any other combat classes?"

"Archery." Arthur replied, as the other student pushed up beneath the strip of wood to lift his arm.

"I thought so." Paulo said, double-checking his work before stepping back. "Alright, show me a lunge, Art'ur."

Stood still with his grip on the handle, not daring to move his arm any lower, Arthur stared at the other. "A what?"

"A lunge! You must know what a lunge is!" He looked as if he were about to burst out laughing.

"O-Of course I know what a lunge is!" Arthur near snapped. "I'm just not sure I can do it without a demonstration." _'Without looking like a complete and utter plonker'_, he added, mentally.

Paulo gave a slight shrugging movement, his own sword in hand. "I was going to allow you the initiative and then correct you on your errors, but very well." He turned to the side, sinking his knees a little and making an offensive stance, before pushing forward onto his front knee, stabbing outwards with his sword quickly and smoothly. "See? Just like that."

Arthur watched carefully, taking note of where Paulo placed his legs; how far off the floor his knee was and the distance between his front and back feet.

"Aim for the heart." Paulo said, standing back up and pointing towards the centre of his own chest plate.

"On you?" He cocked an eyebrow.

The other student opened his arms, purposefully leaving himself open for attack. "On me. Not too hard though, you shouldn't spend all your energy in one lunge."

Arthur moved his legs down into the position Paulo showed him, and quickly, but withdrawing his full strength, as he had been instructed to do, he stabbed at the other's chest armour with the tip of his sword. It barely made a tapping noise – that armour was certainly stronger than it felt, then... That, or Arthur's attack had been much weaker than it should have been.

"Good. You have good posture." Paulo said. "Just lift your arm a little more, then try again."

Neither of them moving from their stances, Arthur did as he was told, jabbing once again at Paulo's chest with a little more strength, this time.

"Just like that! Again!" The other student grinned.

Before long, Arthur had got a good rhythm going with his stabs. Paulo allowed him more shots at his armour, apparently unaffected by how they gradually got stronger and more forceful, than he could count.

"Very good!" Paulo grinned. "I'll show you disarming, now."

Arthur barely had time to react before Paulo brought up his own sword, locking it with Arthur's and yanking it upwards and out of his grasp, with incredible agility and grace, sending it flying. Startled, Arthur stumbled to the side, watching as his weapon clunked to the floor a decent distance away. Paulo lowered his own sword, then.

"Sorry... I couldn't resist." He gave Arthur a bit of a sheepish smile. "I'll show you how to do that in a minute... As the Principal's not back yet, let me just check everyone else is okay. Go sit down and take a breather, alright?"

Arthur, a little annoyed by Paulo's attack there, shook his head with a sigh and dragged his feet over to where his sword lay abandoned back near the pile of protective gear. He took it back in his hand and sat against the wall, watching the rest of the class sparring in pairs and practicing a very complicated-looking parry. Paulo went around checking each pair had the correct stance and execution, and Arthur wondered if he was really a student, or an assisting teacher. He didn't have much time to hold that thought, though, as a girl in uniform – apparently from another class – jumped through the open doorway and gave a heavy knock on the door itself. Everyone in the room went still and turned to look at her. She was panting heavily, her posture slouched and her hair out of place. She recuperated quickly and slicked her hair back, though it took a few moments more for her to catch her breath.

"What is it?" Paulo spoke up in that time, stepping towards her and breaking the silence. "What's wrong?"

"D-Denmark... An-And Iceland! They need to c-come with me down to the tennis courts! It's Finland, he..." She shook her head and drew in another few breaths. "Prussia and..."

Søren jogged towards her, raising his voice. "Whoa, whoa, what about Finland?"

The girl swallowed hard. The rest of the class began exchanging glances with each other, the room feeling cold all of a sudden; like they all knew exactly what she was going to say. "He's hurt!" She breathed out. "Very badly hurt!"

"What? _Why_!?" Søren amped up his volume again, lunging forward towards the girl – startling her – and grabbing her shoulders. "_What happened_!?" He demanded, a frantic, worried look in his eyes.

Paulo stepped forward and pulled Søren off the girl, being amazingly gentle in doing so. "Søren, just go. Quickly."

Not seeming to need any other form of permission, Søren dropped his sword and launched himself off and out of the room, straight past the girl, who was still trying to recover from apparently having run there. Emil said nothing, but jogged after him. The girl then followed, leaving the class still for another few moments further, the sound of footsteps resounding loudly in the hallway outside echoing.

Sighing, Paulo turned back to the class. "I think everyone needs a time out." Exhales came from almost every student, and they all wandered over to the walls to sit down.

Arthur looked around, then glanced towards the doorway again for a moment, wondering what exactly was going on down by the tennis courts, and why Tino had been involved. Was it something to do with Berwald, or was there another reason? Either way, he couldn't imagine why someone who seemed as friendly as Tino would have gotten into a fight... And it was worrying to think that he was badly hurt, too.

"I don't think the Principal's coming back to the class today, somehow." Paulo said to Arthur as he approached, frowning. He dropped down against the wall next to him. "Sorry, this must be irritating for your first class."

Arthur shrugged in response. "I assumed this was more of a sample lesson." He didn't know if Rome wanted him in the Swordsmanship class in the same way he wanted him in the Technology class, but that seemed like the most reasonable reason as to why he was there. Then again, Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted to be in this class more than World History, as of yet. Perhaps if Paulo was going to be teaching him all of the time, he'd definitely consider it... "...So the Principal told you to take over the lesson, then?" He asked.

Paulo nodded. "I've decided to take this class over in a few months time. He's been juggling the class with me since I made my choice."

That sounded promising. "I see... " Arthur muttered. Paulo choosing to become a teacher meant he was choosing against crossing over; he didn't know whether it was that he was happy about, or the fact that Paulo would be teaching him – should he choose to move into the Swordsmanship class – permanently. He twiddled his fingers a bit, disliking the silence that fell between them, then; the remainder of the class talking quietly amongst themselves, probably about Søren and Emil and Tino, though all he could hear were blurred whispers. "You're a... Very good teacher, you know." Arthur wasn't one to churn out compliments, but he certainly felt like the other had earned it.

Another warm (yet embarrassed) smile crossed Paulo's face. "Thank you, Art'ur... That means a lot."

Trying to shake off his own awkwardness, though Arthur looked away, he spoke up again, so as not to let the silence fall. "So... As you're to be teaching me, do you perhaps have a delegate name I can call you? For the sake of formality, of course."

He saw Paulo nod his head again in the corner of his eye. "Portugal, _amigo_."

* * *

Notes:

Nothing to add, apart from the fact that I broke the 10,000 word target for a chapter again. I hope, therefore, that the content of this chapter was involving, and didn't seem like filler material at all.

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	13. XIII

_A/N:_

-**Tanglepelt and Maeneth: **Thanks guys! I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

-**Drizzled with Chocolate: **Thank you! Again, I can't really say anything about the micronations without giving future plans away, but please do keep tabs on the story if you like it so far!

* * *

_**XIII.**_

The atmosphere of the Academy had changed once again, after what had happened during third period, though it wasn't until after classes had finished that Arthur learnt of the events in detail. Hearing it as it apparently had been, even through word of mouth from what may have been an unreliable source, left him more concerned than when he'd simply known of it during the school day.

"Apparently it all began not on the field, no, but much closer to the school!" Aurel began jauntily, as if he were telling a long and detailed legend or myth; perched on the arm of one of the couches with his legs crossed. "In the front building, in fact. Gilbert was seeing his father about something in his office during second period, and when he left, he claimed to have seen Eduard departing from the area outside for no apparent reason. Gilbert, finding this to be quite fishy, tried to pursue Eduard, but lost him in the swarms escaping from classes at break time. He found him just outside of the library at the start of third period, and claimed that he had stolen something from his father's archives. Eduard denied everything, and there was no such evidence on his body, but Gilbert was sure he'd hidden what he'd stolen in the library, somewhere. Gilbert was on the verge of beating the everloving shit out of Eduard, when Tino stepped in to defend his friend. They took the fight down to the tennis courts, and that's how it happened." A wide, beaming grin spread over his face. "Or, so I've pieced together from what I know. Exciting, isn't it?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Exciting was not the word he'd use... Still, as off-hand and fallible Aurel's story might well have been, it did bring something to mind. From what he already knew of Eduard, he wouldn't rule out him stealing archives that belonged to the Vice Principal. And him being in the area outside of the Vice Principal's office without intending to see him would have brought that idea to mind. However, if no evidence had been found, there was really nothing to incriminate him with.

"Dunno, sounds like it was pretty lame." Alfred, sat on Arthur's left on the couch, said with a yawn.

Aurel snorted. "Excuse me? I happen to have watched the fight myself from the Poetry class window, and it was anything _but _lame!"

"Pft. Yeah, dude, our definitions of lame are probably way different." Alfred waved his hand dismissively, slouching.

"Different, you say?" Aurel asked, almost sardonically.

"Yeah, I mean, I'll bet it was just a little scrap. But it prob'ly seemed like a real fight for a weirdo like you."

Before Aurel (looking visibly annoyed by having been called a weirdo) could form another response, Arthur interjected, "I very much doubt it was a 'little scrap', Alfred. Tino was badly hurt, wasn't he?"

Aurel gave a brisk nod. "Søren's absolutely furious! You should have seen him screaming at Berwald during fourth period. He refused to go back to class all day."

Arthur glanced back over at the Romanian. "You don't say? I suppose you've been skipping class yourself to find this out, have you?"

"Naturally!" Aurel replied proudly, with a grin. "Lukas asked me to, as a matter of fact. He wanted me to do some detective work whilst he kept an eye on Søren himself."

"Detective work?" Arthur asked, with genuine interest.

"He wanted me to go see if Eduard had actually stolen anything. So I lingered around the hallways near to the Vice Principal's office whilst the old man and the janitor checked the archive room. Apparently nothing was actually stolen at all!"

Arthur paused in thought. He wondered, then, what Eduard had been doing there, or on the other hand, what Gilbert was up to. He didn't know whether poking his nose in situations like this was a good idea, but he had assumed Eduard was one of the students that was going to probably help him the most, were he to go ahead and carry out what Cameron had asked of him. Though not really one for sympathy, he decided that at least going to see Eduard would be a good idea. That way, there was also a chance he could get the story straight from the horse's mouth... Or, well, the Estonian's mouth, in this case. He said goodbye to both Aurel and Alfred, getting off the couch and telling them he needed to go back to the library for research – which, in a way, wasn't entirely a lie. They both seemed to buy it, at any rate.

He didn't know if Eduard was in the library or not, but it was a good place to start. If he wasn't there, he'd go to the infirmary next to see if he was with Tino instead. The library was as quiet as usual, only a few students here and there, scouring through the near endless rows of bookcases, hardly uttering a word to one and other. He shut the doors after himself, walked past the blonde woman behind the front desk, and made a beeline for the computer suite.

Oddly enough, he found the room to be closed off by the metal shutter that served as a door; muffled voices coming from the other side. Frowning, Arthur drew closer to the corrugated metal. He was unable to make out the conversation in full, but he recognised one voice to belong to Eduard. The other belonged to a girl, or so he assumed.

A few moments later and he heard the conversation cease, followed by the noise of someone fiddling with the lock of the shutter on the other side. He took a step back in surprise, and then raised his hand to pretending to have just been about to knock on the metal. It slid open, revealing that there was indeed a girl on the other side. He wasn't surprised to see Eduard, whom was further back in the room, but Eduard seemed surprised to see him. He startled the Estonian at first, but when the other student realised who he was, he breathed out a sigh of relief. The girl, however, didn't look quite at ease.

"Can I help you?" She asked, gaining Arthur's attention.

"I'd like to talk to Eduard." He replied, lowering his hand.

The girl was, now that he looked at her properly, not really someone one could describe as a girl at all, but rather a woman. She was wearing the red plaid dress and white shirt of the girls' uniform, and so she couldn't have been any older than eighteen, but still, she had thin, high cheekbones and narrow, cherry-coloured stained lips that made her look to be at least the same age as Hungary, if not older. She stood at merely an inch or so shorter than Arthur. Her hair was black, long and wavy; heavily combed upwards on the crown of her head, her skin was a light beige and she had small, flat eyes of a watery blue-green colour. Though he wouldn't describe her as ugly (of course, that would be extremely rude and ungentlemanly of him), nor would he say she met his definition of pretty; he inwardly felt a little bad for relating her slender features to that of a rat's.

"Oh, you do, do you?" She asked deeply, cocking an arched eyebrow, not seeming to want to move out of the way to allow him to do so.

"Ah, yes, I've actually been wanting to speak to you too, Arthur." Eduard said, from far behind the female student.

Instantly, both the girl's eyebrows raised in what looked like fake surprise. "Arthur? Oh, you're the new England, aren't you?" The initial rude tone in her voice disappeared, and was replaced by completely the opposite – insincere politeness. She smiled almost instantly.

Arthur coughed. "Erm, yes?"

She made a dismissive hand wave. "Oh, allow me to rephrase. I know who you are, of course. I just haven't hand a chance to meet you as of yet." She folded the hand she'd motioned with behind her back, offering the other outwards to shake. "Well, I won't be forgetting your face from now on." She spread her smile into a grin, as he awkwardly shook hands with her. "Adéla Kríž. _Czechia_."

Adéla. He'd heard of her before... Hadn't Lars mentioned her to Elise back at the beach?

"A pleasure." He said, retracting his hand.

"I'll leave you to it." She said, glancing back towards Eduard for a moment before stepping around Arthur to leave.

"Sorry about that." Eduard said, half-smiling. "I take it you've heard?"

Arthur nodded, asking matter-of-factly as he walked past the threshold and into the computer suite. "Hasn't the whole school?"

Eduard got out of his seat at the centre computer on the right-hand row. "Could you shut the door again?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?" In spite of his question, he had a good idea he knew exactly why.

The smile on Eduard's face spread a little, and his tone of voice went quieter. "I want to show you something."

That pretty much confirmed it, in Arthur's mind. Frowning a little, he stepped forward and turned around, pulling the metal shutter across the threshold between the computer suite and the rest of the library. When he turned back around, Eduard was at the other end of the room, kneeling down under the long bench the computer monitors were placed on. He pulled out a computer tower on its side, laying it in the middle of the floor.

"Could you perhaps lock the door, too?" He asked. "I think Adéla left the key in the lock."

Seeing the tower, Arthur's suspicions disappeared for a moment. Now he wasn't at all sure what Eduard wanted to show him, but he did as the other student asked of him, locking the shutter in place with the key.

"Alright, it's locked." He made his way back over to where Eduard was knelt down, after that. "What is it you wanted to show me?"

Eduard placed his hand inside the v-neck of his sweater. He dug around in the breast pocket of his shirt and took out a small screwdriver. Arthur watched as he used the tool to unscrew the upward facing side of the computer tower. He thought perhaps there was some kind of internal technology Eduard wanted to show him, though he couldn't think of a reason why – but when the Estonian removed the piece of metal he'd screwed off, he found that his original assumptions had been correct, after all. The inside of the tower contained nothing technological at all, but rather, several large, folded pieces of paper. Eduard took the one on top of the pile out, and showed it to Arthur.

"These are detailed maps of Pangaea. There's several of them, in fact."

Arthur lowered himself to his knees as well, taking a good look at the map. It showed the Academy, on top of the large hill in the centre of the island, the town to the north west and the docks close by, as well as the training facility to the south east, near to where a cliff face was marked out.

He peered up at Eduard. "You stole these from the Vice Principal's archives, didn't you?"

The smile on the Estonian's face faltered, and he pushed his sliding glasses back up his nose. "Erm... I prefer the word 'liberated', don't you?"

Arthur hated to admit it, but he did agree with that, actually. There was just one thing he didn't understand... "Hmn... How odd. I thought the Vice Principal didn't notice anything missing?"

"Ah, that's because I replaced the missing maps with fake ones. I've seen the archives before; they're all kept in the same type of folder." Eduard explained. "All I had to do was fill the folder belonging to the maps with fake ones. The likelihood is that, with so many different archives, so long as the folders were all put back exactly where they were, the Vice Principal wouldn't give the folder with the fake maps in a second glance. After all, there are much more important files in there; they'd be his biggest concern."

Genuinely quite impressed by how he'd pulled all of this off, Arthur gave a nod. "Well, that's... Good, I suppose." He didn't sound too enthusiastic, however. "How did you manage to get into the archives, though? Surely they were locked?"

Eduard smiled a little more again. "Of course. But that's nothing a guide to picking locks can't help you with."

"They have books for that in here?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Seeming to hesitate again, Eduard lightly shrugged his shoulders. "I guess they do."

"You 'guess they do'?" Arthur repeated, getting the feeling that Eduard was lying. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" He then sighed, shaking his head and looking back down at the map. "Nevermind, what's done is done." For a moment, he paused again, then glanced back up. "Though... Does it bother you that Tino was hurt, defending you and believing that you didn't steal anything?"

The Estonian nodded, frowning. "It does. If Tino hadn't intervened, I don't know what Gilbert would have done to me... Ah, but, as you said, what's done is done."

"_Quite_." Arthur coughed, not liking how casual Eduard's response was. He returned his gaze to the map. "So, why is it you wanted to show me these?"

"To help you, of course." Eduard's tone of voice lightened up again.

"...Because Gregory asked you to?"

"More or less... Also because I overheard you asking Iryna for archives, yesterday."

Arthur sighed. By Iryna, he must have meant the busty blonde woman whom served as the librarian. He did appreciate the effort from the other student, but he still hadn't made up his mind overall. Eduard probably assumed he was definitely going to carry out the 'uprising' (or whatever it could be called), and he was probably very eager to help out (and listen in on his conversations, apparently), because he wanted to be free from the island. It was perfectly understandable, but all the same, Arthur still didn't know what to do.

The two of them sat on the floor for a while examining the maps between themselves, the insight he received from doing so proving to actually be very useful.

"If you see here... " Eduard said, pointing to various lines on one of the subterranean maps. "These are almost like graveless catacombs. They connect the Academy with the town. I think they're an emergency escape route of some description."

"Interesting..." Arthur muttered, though he was paying more attention to the route between the Academy's south gate and the training facility. Unfortunately, there was nothing detailing the facility itself. He wondered if such a map existed at all within the school.

Eduard stood up and walked over to the printing machine at the end of the bench, taking one of the maps with him. "I'm going to make copies of these, anyway. Would you like one of each?"

Arthur nodded, collecting the remaining maps back together. That sounded like a good idea.

The Estonian gave him a sheepish smile as he opened the top part of the machine, laying the map face down inside. "I'll be sure to return the originals to the archives, by the way." He pressed a couple of buttons to turn it on, and then shut the lid.

He left the other maps next to the printer. "Alright, then."

To his surprise, Eduard only made one copy of each map, despite the fact he'd said he was going to make 'copies', implying more. He didn't enquire as to why, though. Perhaps he was going to make more later? When Eduard was done, he gave the four sheets of paper imprinted with the duplicate maps to Arthur. He folded them up and put them away in the safety of his bag. Once Eduard had hidden the maps away in his own bag and replaced the empty computer tower he'd been hiding them in, Arthur went back to the metal shutter to unlock it.

"Thank you, Eduard." He said, once it was open; swinging his bag over his back, ready to leave the library.

"No, Arthur." Eduard smiled, fixing his glasses again. "Thank _you_."

* * *

Alfred seemed more excited about Arthur joining the Technology class than he was, himself. The next day, the American was practically bouncing off the walls on their way down the narrow staircase to the basement classroom.

"Oh man you're not gonna believe some of the stuff we make!" He told him excitedly. "Pretty much anything, _anything _you can think of, we learn to make! It's the coolest thing ever, man! And Japan's such an awesome guy, too! He knows like, _everything_!"

Arthur decided to humour him. "So it would seem." He said, sarcastically.

The door to the class was wide open for students to come inside. Right away, everyone who stepped through the door went straight to where the lab coats and protective gear were held, then headed to the practical area to begin their work. Arthur stood back, waiting as Japan seemed to do a mental headcount before shutting and bolting the door.

"Please put a lab coat on and collect some goggles, England." Japan said after turning to him with a smile.

Arthur did as he was told, not finding the lab coat very comfortable over his school sweater. He stretched the goggles onto his forehead, ready to pull them down if need be. Japan then lead him into the practical room, where the grating sounds of scraping, banging and whirring from the other students and their tools and machines had already begun.

"Germany is working on a fairly complex project that is considered important." Japan said, motioning to a young man with short, slicked back blond hair, whom Arthur recognised as Germania's son, and Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig. He was already extremely focused on his work, staring at a long, thin piece of metal through the goggles over his eyes and apparently checking it for flexibility (or indeed, stability). "However, he is working on it alone. Today, I would like you to assist him."

Arthur nodded. It didn't sound too thrilling, though, having to merely assist someone else. "Alright."

Japan approached Lugwig and explained his wishes to him, before motioning for Arthur to join him. Arthur shuffled his feet around to the other side of the bench, watching as the other student resumed his work, the teacher leaving to check on another student.

"Erm. Hello?" Arthur greeted him.

"_Hallo_." Ludwig had a deep voice – understandable, since he was quite a big guy. He resembled his father more than his brother did; they were both tall and well built, with blonde hair, whereas Gilbert was more on the lanky side, and an albino. He stood up to his full height for a moment, bringing the metal up to his eye level and lifting the goggles up off his eyes to get a better look. "Japan wants me to explain what I'm doing whilst you help. So as long as you're quiet and pay attention, you should learn the basics of metal craft, today."

Arthur, not liking the lecturing way the other student spoke to him, rolled his eyes and coughed, "Oh, I see. Very well then, _sir_."

Apparently noticing his sarcasm, Ludwig gave a grunt, still focused on what was in his hands. "The metal is kept at the back of the room and is coded. I want you to bring me a piece of Steel X635."

"_Ahem_." Arthur stared at the taller blond with a cold look in his eyes, already getting quite annoyed with him. "Actually, it's 'I _would like _you to bring me a piece of steel, _please_'."

Ludwig's eyes snapped away from the metal, and he frowned heavily at Arthur, meeting his eyes with a glare almost equally as intimidating as his father's. "This is an urgent project for the training facility!" He raised his voice, crinkling his nose ever so slightly. "I need a piece of Steel X635. _Please_."

With a disgruntled sigh, Arthur made his way to the back of the room, where everything was stored in labelled boxes and cupboards. He found the steel, found a long thin piece of Steel X635, fairly heavy, and similar in appearance to the one Ludwig already had in his possession, and brought it back.

"Now." Ludwig said, taking the piece of steel from his hands. "Watch closely."

Arthur stood back by the bench, watching as Ludwig picked up a hammer and began to slam it down on the piece of steel he'd brought over, flattening it.

"The secret of the technique is to use the same amount of pressure with every blow of the hammer." He explained, his tone of voice as harsh as the clanking of the tool against the metal. "That way, the metal is shaped evenly."

"That makes sense." Arthur said, watching with a pensive look. "What is it that you're making, anyway?"

"That's top secret. I'm afraid I can't disclose such information to you." Ludwig replied.

Frowning, Arthur glanced around the room for a moment. "Then why are you making it in a class full of students, if it's a secret?"

"These are the basic stages. I will complete it after class, when the room is empty. No more questions."

Arthur made a 'tch' noise in the back of his throat, not at all liking Ludwig's attitude. It was like he didn't want to be burdened with showing him what to do, but wanted the extra pair of hands he provided anyway. All the same, when he kept his focus, he did actually learn quite a few things from the other student, specifically how to shape metal with a hammer and weld it together. He spent the rest of the lesson shaping various pieces of Steel X635 into strips on the German's request, ready for him to weld into place. He still couldn't tell what he was making, though. On occasion, he glanced over at Eduard and Alfred working on their joint project with Tino, not able to fathom what they were creating. He supposed he could ask; he doubted they would be keeping it a secret as well.

"I see you've made progress." Japan said with a smile, taking note of one of the pieces of metal Arthur had shaped and examining it.

Ludwig returned to the bench to collect the next piece of steel. "At this rate, I should have the project complete by Thursday at the latest." He told the teacher.

Japan nodded. "Excellent."

Still curious as to what the project was, half-frown crossed Arthur's face. Once he was out of the lab coat and goggles, and back out onto ground level and away from what was becoming a rancid smell of burning within the Technology classroom (he supposed he'd just have to get used to that and the noise, unfortunately), and into the fresh air outside of the class building, he decided to bring the subject up with Alfred.

"Eh, sorry man, I dunno what Ludwig's workin' on." He said, shrugging. "He seems to wanna get it done quickly though."

"What about you, then? What are you, Eduard and Tino making?"

Alfred cracked a grin at that. "We're making cell phones!"

"Cell phones?" Arthur was quite surprised at that answer. He'd had to get rid of his cell phone before he came to Pangaea. "Aren't they banned here?"

"Yeah, the normal kind are." He replied. "They give out signals that could be traced by anyone, like the rogues and stuff. That's why they don't allow 'em onto the island. I mean, there's contact with the U.N. headquarters and suppliers to the island, but that's as close as this place gets. That's why we make cell phones with signals that only go to another cell phone as intended, and can't be traced! But er..." His shoulders slumped a bit. "They're a pain in the ass to make. That's why it takes three of us." (1)

The two of them sat on the hill leading down to the field and the tennis courts, which was where most of the students hung out at break time, if they had nothing else to do.

"Hey, apparently Scotland crossed over on Sunday." Alfred said suddenly. "I mean, he came back and then like, disappeared again."

A little taken aback with him bringing it up, Arthur glanced away from Alfred for a moment. He'd heard a couple of other students discussing the subject the day before – apparently that was the only conclusion that could be drawn from his abrupt disappearance. He sighed, not really knowing what to say.

"I know." He muttered.

"Left without saying goodbye and all. Weird, huh?"

Arthur paused, his eyes shifting back over to look at the American again. He was pretty sure he could trust Alfred; even though he'd only known him for just over a week, he'd gotten to know him to the point where he could consider him his friend. He did feel like he could trust him.

"Alfred?" He asked, checking around to make sure the other students talking and laughing and lazing away on the hill weren't close enough to hear them.

"Chyeah?" The American looked over at him.

"Erm..." Arthur's gaze shifted away again. "Listen. I was with Camer- Scotland, when he crossed over..."

_"WHAT_!?_"_ Alfred raised his voice in shock, as if he were intentionally wanting people around them to hear.

"_SHH!_" Arthur demanded, putting a finger to his lips. "Be quiet, would you!?"

With a pout, the American lowered his volume, "Sorry."

"_Listen_." He began again. "Cameron wanted me to know something, before he left..." He glanced around once more, now not entirely sure that telling Alfred there was a good idea. "Look, let's go somewhere else to talk about this, alright?"

Alfred agreed; they got up from the grass and walked to the west side of the library building, a good distance from any other students.

Arthur double-checked for anyone else again before speaking. "You know I knew Gregory Richardson, don't you?"

"Yeah. You said that." Alfred replied, leaning against the white-brick library wall with one arm.

"He... Wanted me to come to the Academy, according to what Cameron told me. He asked the Principal specifically if I could come." Raking a hand backwards through his hair, Arthur sighed. "So that..." He stared Alfred in the eyes, straightening his posture. He inhaled a breath through his nose and forced his words out. "So that I could cause an uprising, overthrow the project and liberate everyone in the Academy."

There was silence; Alfred just stared back at Arthur, blinking slowly in confusion. It was awkward. Arthur had no idea what Alfred was thinking at the time, whether he was going to react in shock again or not. Luckily, after a good few prolonged moments, he did much the opposite.

"That's... That's amazing!" He grinned, pushing himself off the wall. "Like, really amazing, man! Dude, I knew it!" He grabbed Arthur by the shoulders, which startled him, the excitement in his voice growing with each word. "I knew it from the moment I met you, there was something special about you! You're the one! You're gonna be the guy to break us all off this island!"

Arthur, very much surprised by that response, stammered, "Wh-What? What!? No! No, I don't... I don't know!" He darted his eyes from side to side quickly. "Look I... He just dropped the bloody bombshell on me then and there! I've no idea where to start, or what to do, o-or anything!"

"Dude! _Dude_! Artie, dude." Alfred shook him a bit, becoming quieter but still beaming. "It's fine! It's cool! We'll figure it out!" He released his shoulders, giving them hefty pats before taking his hands away. "Wow, man. _Wow_. An _uprising_. Why didn't I think of that? Geeze, why didn't _anyone _think of that?"

Feeling like his shoulders had been pummelled by small rocks, Arthur rolled them a bit with a wince as he replied, "I'm sure they have thought of it before. They probably just found themselves in the same situation as I happen to be in right now. That is to say, they've no idea how to go about it."

"Huh." Alfred rubbed his chin pensively. "Well, I'm sure you'll think of something."

The two of them, needing to change into their gym kits for their following lessons, decided to go back to their dorm rooms to do so, then. Whilst getting dressed, Arthur tried his best to think of something. _Anything_. But no ideas came.

Thankfully, Alfred seemed to have had more luck in the meantime. Arthur opened the door to the dorm when he knocked, allowing the once again over-excited American inside.

"I've got it!" He grinned. "You've gotta get everyone on your side, right?"

"Well, it would help, yes." Arthur replied.

"Even the teachers, right?"

He wasn't sure where Alfred was going with this. "Erm..."

Luckily, Alfred spoke up over him before he could answer properly. "So! What kinda student would be able to gain the trust of both the other kids _and_ the teachers?"

"Well..." Arthur gave that question a good think over. "I suppose some sort of student councillor? I don't think the Academy has those, though." If they did, he wasn't aware of them.

"_Exactly_!" Alfred punched the palm of one of his hands with the fist of the other, seeming ecstatic. "There's no student council! So, whadda we do? We make one! And then whadda we do? We get _you_ elected!"

"...W-What?"

"Yeah, and then, once you've got everyone backin' you, you lead the uprising!" He continued, not even taking note of Arthur's reaction.

"O-Oi! Wait just a minute!" Arthur raised his voice to interject. "That's a ridiculous idea! If there's no student council at the moment, I very much doubt the Principal is going to allow one now that the program's closing down! A-And even if there was, the process would have to be democratic; there's no guarantee I'd be elected!" He folded his arms. "If you haven't noticed, I've only been here just over a week; it's not like I'm the epitome of popularity here!"

Alfred laughed, as if there were no doubts at all. "Dude, calm down! Don't think like that. You've just gotta leave all that to me!"

Somehow, that didn't sound like a very good idea. Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Leave _what _to you?"

"Everything! I'll go to the Principal and convince him to let us make a student council! Then I'll work on making you Mr. Popular." Alfred slung his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "You've just gotta listen to me, and everything'll work out fine! You play guitar, right?"

Alfred was speaking so fast, it was almost too difficult for Arthur to comprehend him. "Err... Yes, I do." He replied.

"Great! Then you've got a catchy campaign song in the bag already!"

"What? No, I don't! Alfred you don't know what the hell you're-"

The American let go of him with a hefty pat on the back, laughing again. "Trust me on this, man. Trust me."

Arthur let out another sigh, seriously wishing that he could.

* * *

It had been a long day, but Arthur didn't forget to go to the magic club. He headed into the library after class, remembering he'd never actually asked _when _it started – Aurel had just said it took place on Tuesday evenings. He sat alone in the library for quite a while, deciding to finish off his Mathematics homework in the meantime. He was halfway through a rather complicated equation involving tangents when Aurel spotted him.

"Arthur! You're early!" He grinned, plopping himself down into the seat next to him.

"You never specified a time." Arthur told him, folding up his sheet of equations.

"Ah, Lukas and I usually wait until the sun has disappeared over the western wall." Aurel replied, crossing his legs with a smile. "Lukas, however, is in the infirmary with Tino this evening, so I will have to show you the ropes alone, I'm afraid."

"Fair enough." Arthur put everything back in his bag.

"Now, as I said on Saturday, our primary activities are quite limited. Lukas has spoken with the spirits of the island and..." A frown crossed Aurel's face momentarily. "Well, the island is rather lacking in spirits. We believe it could have been a man-made island, but that aside, it was uninhabited before the Academy was built, hence the lack of spirits. There are no ghosts to come into contact with, apart from those of animals. And, well, those conversations aren't exactly the most thrilling."

Arthur, unperturbed, shrugged. The occult wasn't something that frightened him as it would a normal person. He did find it interesting how easily Aurel could speak about such things, though, as if they were completely normal occurrences. "Understandable."

Aurel grinned again. "Perhaps, then, I can show you one of our less common practises?"

"That depends on what it is." Arthur replied. He really didn't feel like summoning the devil or something that evening, with everything else that was going on at the Academy.

Leaning in closer to Arthur, Aurel lowered his volume, near whispering, "I often use the magic club to practise stamina and stealth. Unlike Lukas, I don't take any physical classes. He took a couple of things he learnt in Swordsmanship class and gave them more efficient uses. I've gotten quite good at sneaking around unnoticed and scaling walls without support thanks to him."

"Interesting..." Arthur muttered. "So, that's what you want to show me?"

"Exactly!" Aurel leaned back again, and hopped out of his seat. "I'll show you a couple of the basics down at the tennis courts. Follow me!"

They left the library, the sun indeed disappearing down behind the tall walls to the west, casting a heavy, dark shadow over the school buildings; the sky a blood orange colour. Lights were beginning to switch on, illuminating several of the windows – these became little glowing dots in the distance when they reached the bottom of the hill.

"The tennis court mesh is a perfect starter for learning to scale walls." Aurel explained, leaving his bag at the corner of the outside of the court.

Arthur did the same. "You were sat up there, the first day I arrived here."

"Indeed I was!" Aurel grinned, seeming not at all abashed that he'd gotten a detention for it. "Quite a useful skill to have in that respect, isn't it? Now, don't worry if you fall, the top of the court mesh isn't as high as it seems."

Staring up at the top, Arthur wasn't sure he believed him, beginning to have his doubts about this idea. It did look awfully high, to him. "Erm, are you sure we won't be caught by any teachers?"

"I doubt it." Aurel replied, beginning to take a position on the mesh, his fingers clenching around the sturdy metal wires. "The important thing to remember is not to lose your grasp. Speed is also a key factor, particularly on walls where there's nothing to hold onto."

Arthur studied the Romanian's grip, and where he'd put his left foot onto the mesh as well, attempting to mirror his stance.

"Very good!" Aurel grinned. "Now, watch."

The younger student drew in a deep breath through his nose, his gaze fixated above. Then, very quickly, he began to climb upwards in a crawling-like motion, his fingers seeming to hold most of his weight and his legs pushing him up; the mesh clattering underneath him and shaking in Arthur's hold. In mere seconds, he was at the top of the court wall. Then, he pushed himself over on one hand, kicking off the mesh and somersaulting over the top edge, before dropping back down the other side, landing cleanly on his feet with bent knees, the dust of the court crunching beneath him. Arthur stared, not sure what he'd just seen... And certainly not sure how he was going to mimic it, either.

Aurel's hat, which had come loose from his head when he'd rolled forward off the top of the mesh, fluttered downwards a good few seconds after its owner. The Romanian stood up, caught it, and turned back to Arthur on the other side of the divider, replacing it on his head. "Now, you try!"

Arthur glanced back upwards again. "I'm not sure I can do it _exactly_ as you just did."

"Oh, of course. I don't expect you to. Just try your best. Practise makes perfect, after all." Aurel replied. "So long as you don't fall, that's progress."

Drawing in a breath as Aurel had done, Arthur heaved his weight up on his hands, kicking down at the mesh for support. He grit his teeth, steadily making his way to the top in laboured steps.

"Good. Keep your hold." Aurel said. "Be like a spider!"

Arthur winced, his hands beginning to hurt from holding himself to the mesh. When he managed to reach the top, he glanced back down. Aurel was, in a way, right – it hadn't been that far to climb, though it did look quite a way down to fall. Kicking his legs over the other side, he began to scale down the inside of the mesh, deciding he didn't want to make a jump.

"Hmn. Not a bad, I suppose. But, you're too slow and cautious!" Aurel tapped his chin. "Hmn. Imagine there is the one thing you want most in the world at the top of the wall! The one thing you'd do anything for, right up there!" He jabbed his finger upwards.

"Er. Alright." Arthur said matter-of-factly, not really knowing what that one thing was. That kind of psychology had never worked particularly well with him.

"Then!" Aurel continued, taking his position on the mesh again. "Climb like your life depends on it!" He shot back upwards again.

Arthur sighed as he copied him once more, trying to focus on increasing his speed. Though, by the time he was at the top, the other was already back down the other side, watching him.

"Try to jump down, this time!" Aurel called up.

"Are you _mad_!?" He near yelled back down, cautiously taking a seat on the top in spite of what he'd said.

"Perhaps! But that's not the point. Just keep your feet beneath you and drop down!"

Arthur tried to ignore the looming height he was at, turning around to climb back down. "It's not nearly as easy as you make it look, you know!"

"Well, no!" Aurel chuckled. "I am rather good at it. But the point is, you won't find it as easy as I make it look if you don't try it!"

He did have a point there, as much as Arthur hated to admit it. Closing his eyes, and mentally chiding himself for being so _absolutely bloody mad_, Arthur – with much caution – let go of the mesh, using his feet to push him off. He was still at a considerable height to drop from, and so he fell down, doing exactly what Aurel had told him to by keeping his feet beneath him. He braced himself for the landing, hitting the ground with his feet first, before losing his balance and dropping back onto his rear. "Oof!"

Aurel laughed once again. "You definitely need to be just a little more graceful."

Arthur stood back up, frowning, and rubbing his backside with his sore hands. "You know, I'm not sure this climbing business is really my thing."

"Nonsense! You just need practise. Anyone can do it if they try!" Aurel was about to say something more, when he caught sight of something – or rather, someone.

"I thought I might find you here." Lukas's voice said.

Arthur looked over his shoulder, seeing the Norwegian student approaching them.

"Ah, good of you to join us, Lukas!" Aurel beamed. "How is Tino doing?"

Lukas nodded, a slight frown crossing his plain expression. "As well as can be expected. It's Søren that I'm concerned for."

"Søren?" Aurel asked. "Why?"

"He's been agitated ever since he found out about Tino. I understand why, but he's done nothing but yell at Berwald like an idiot and demand that Gilbert fights him. According to Ludwig, Gilbert's been under their father's watch since yesterday, but you know what he's like. Søren's too stupid to listen to us, too. He's only going to make things worse." Lukas explained.

"Well, the archives weren't taken." Aurel said, causing Arthur to feel a pit of guilt in his stomach for knowing that the truth was actually the complete opposite. "Perhaps Gilbert can just give his apologies to Tino and be done with it?"

Lukas paused, frowning further. "I somehow doubt that's going to happen. Anyway, the two of you are pretty stupid yourselves, climbing whilst it's still light out."

Aurel shrugged. "No one would have caught us."

"I caught you." Lukas replied.

"Ah, but only because you knew we were going to be here, if we weren't in the library!"

Shaking his head, Lukas turned towards Arthur. "I hope you know this isn't the point of the magic club."

"So I was told." Arthur said. "Although, I do think learning stealth and climbing is a good idea."

"You do?" Aurel grinned.

"W-Well, I'm not saying it's not dangerous and probably completely ludicrous in any other situation! I'm just saying, it... Could be quite helpful, at some point..." Arthur wasn't even sure what he was saying, any more. He felt flustered, and a little irritated with himself for having said that.

However, Aurel and Lukas seemed to have understood where he was coming from.

"Within the walls of the Academy, there is little magic energy." Lukas said. "As the gates are shut at night, when the energy is at its highest, we need a way to get outside."

"Which is why we do it!" Aurel interjected. "Not that there's much more magic energy on the outside, as I told you before."

Arthur made a bit of a frown. "Couldn't you break out of the school that way? I mean, if there weren't those rogue blokes out there?"

Lukas lifted his shoulders. "What would the point of that be? Even if we broke out of the school, we would only be able to go as far as the docks."

Aurel nodded. "And then we'd have to stow away on a ship, if we wanted to get away. Providing there were no rogues waiting for us, as you said."

There was quiet for a few moments, before Lukas narrowed his eyes, adding, "Why do you ask?"

"Hmn... No reason." Arthur lied.

"No reason." The Norwegian repeated sardonically. "Of course there isn't."

Not appreciating being caught out, Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. "I... Look, it's a long story, alright?"

Aurel glanced around. "Hmn, I think we've got plenty of time to listen, haven't we, Lukas?"

Lukas gave a nod, not taking his eyes off Arthur. "I think we do."

Inappreciatively, Arthur sighed. He'd told Alfred most of the story, but he wasn't sure he wanted to tell anyone else so soon. "You know, when someone says 'it's a long story', that generally means they don't want to tell it!" He said, irritated.

"Oh, we know." Aurel replied, taking a flashlight out of his bag with a grin and switching it on. "Come on! Let's sit in a circle and you can tell us anyway! That's exactly what the magic club is all about... Erm." His grin turned into a pensive frown. "Well, sort of."

The last remnants of light in the sky faded into dark above; the sky littered with bright flecks of stars. The three of them sat together at the side of the tennis court, the flashlight placed upwards in the middle of their circle, providing a small beacon of light, just enough for them to see each others faces. With some reluctance, and annoyance on his part, Arthur caved, and told them everything. Everything about Gregory, and about Cameron; about Alfred's plan, and even – despite his better judgement – about Eduard and the maps. The other two were so quiet and attentive that at the end of it, it seemed like he'd been telling them the story for hours, rather than the mere minutes it had actually been.

"And... That's everything." Arthur said finally, not liking the silence. All he could hear was the rustling of the forest in the distance.

He glanced at Aurel first, who appeared to not know what to say. He then looked towards Lukas, who was frowning.

"So..." Aurel said, breaking the silence at last. "I was wrong about Eduard..."

Again, Lukas said nothing.

Arthur cleared his throat. "I'm... I'm sorry, for what happened to Tino... I don't think Eduard meant for that to happen..."

The Norwegian furrowed his brow slightly. "Tino will be the judge of that."

Shaking his head, Arthur replied bluntly, "No. Please, don't let Tino know. I think I need Eduard's help with this."

"Actually, I think... Arthur's right." Aurel spoke up. "I'm sure Eduard couldn't just admit in front of Gilbert that he had indeed taken the archives... Of course, it's very unfortunate that Tino got caught up in things, but I don't think there was anything that could be done."

That didn't ease up Lukas's expression, but after a few moments, he did nod.

"Please just... Keep all of this to yourselves." Arthur exhaled, running a hand backwards through his hair. "I still feel at a loss for what to do."

"Our lips are sealed!" Aurel replied. "Although, I for one am glad you told us. Now we can help you, right, Lukas?" He looked over to the student on his right.

Lukas nodded again. He didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic as the Romanian; Arthur didn't know whether that was a good thing or not. "We can try. Although you're right, Arthur. Your situation sounds like a difficult predicament. I just hope Alfred's plan works out."

"See, that's something we can help with!" Aurel went on to say.

Arthur paused, and then simply gave a very slight nod. Aurel didn't seem quite as ideal an aid in any sort of student council campaign as Alfred, however, he did think he needed all the help he could get, for the future. "You're both... Very eager, aren't you?" He asked.

"Eager?" Lukas, the epitome of the entire opposite of eager, repeated.

"I, well... Yes, to help me, I mean." Arthur said. "Eduard and Alfred were much the same..."

The three of them seemed to hold the same thought in unison for a moment, then. It seemed like they all knew exactly what the other two were thinking, too.

"You... Really all must want to be away from here, I suppose..." Arthur went on to say, as apparently neither of the others wanted to.

Aurel lowered his head, the smile now gone from his face and a dejected expression left in its wake. "Yes and no... Oh, of course, we don't want to be trapped on this island as we are, but there are other things to consider. For many, the Academy is home... You've not been here long though, so I can't imagine you think like that yourself."

Arthur understood completely. Even though he'd only been there a short time, and even though he found the entire concept of the Academy project to be an unethical monstrosity, never before in his life had he felt like he really belonged anywhere, amongst anyone... He remembered again what Francis had said to him, the first day he'd arrived there, about that. That was the thing that placated the students; the one thing that kept them from refusing to cross over... It wasn't the Academy itself, but what – or rather, who – was in it.

He drew in a deep breath before replying. "Then... We all have to leave together. Every single last one of us."

The very faint ghost of a smile came over Lukas's countenance. "No one would have it any other way."

When Aurel's bright grin returned again at that, and Arthur looked between the two of them. Even in the weak torch light, he could see there was hope in their eyes... It wasn't like him to think so positive, but he was sure then that for the first time in a long, long time, he felt somewhat reassured. He wasn't alone in his task, and he had a starting point for what to do... But, even so, everything now rested on whether Alfred could convince the Principal to allow the formation of a student council.

* * *

A/N:

(1) - Originally this was written as Alfred, Eduard and Tino trying to figure out a way to make cell phones that wouldn't give out traceable signals. I then realised that a guard in an earlier chapter was in possession of a cell phone already. For the sake of continuity, this was why it was changed.

Apologies again for not hitting the 10,000 word mark in a chapter. Though I will keep that as the general target, I don't think I'll force myself to meet it any more, so long as I feel the chapters are staggered to my liking.

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	14. XIV

_A/N:_

**-Tanglepelt: **Thanks a lot, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

_**XIV.**_

There was something different about Aurel. Konstantin couldn't put his finger on what it was, but somehow, when he had come back to their dorm on Tuesday evening, he seemed much happier than usual. And that was saying something – even though he'd seen his best friend at his worst, cowered beneath the covers of his bed, terrified of a passing storm purely because of the memories it invoked, Aurel was probably the most peculiarly happy person Konstantin knew. But something had changed... He didn't know what it was, but it was almost as if Aurel was no longer left with any nagging doubts. Konstantin had many of those, so perhaps it was just him relating to his own feelings. Either way, the Romanian was chirpy for what little time was left of the day. Even as he sat on his bed to do his homework, he was smiling from ear to ear, chatting across the room to Konstantin about this and that, whatever had gone on that day in class and such, though he never spoke of anything that could have caused the lifting of his spirits.

Once Aurel was dressed in his night clothes, he curled up in Konstantin's bed, seeming to completely ignore the fact that Konstantin was sat on it, and was in the middle of finishing off that Poetry essay he'd _thankfully _(due to the circumstances of Saturday) had been given an extension for.

Sighing, he turned towards the Romanian. "Aurel, there's no storm..."

"Hmn? Oh, well, that hasn't stopped you for the past couple of nights, has it?" Aurel replied, still quite happy, almost looking like a little child waiting for a bedtime story, the way he then sat up to talk again.

Konstantin supposed he'd wanted him there for comfort after what had happened, the same way the other wanted him there when the need arose. Still, he didn't think he could rely on Aurel always being there, because as much as it was unpleasant to think of, he knew that sometime that would cease to be the case, one way or another – probably when he himself crossed over. He didn't _want_ to act like this, though. Not when Aurel was so upbeat.

"We need to stop this." He forced himself to say, closing his notebook.

"Hmn? Stop what?" Aurel asked.

"_This_!" He reiterated, motioning to the bed with his hand. "Sleeping together! We... Y'know..." He sighed, lowering his voice a little. "We can't get used to it happening every night."

Aurel looked saddened, for a moment, dropping his head and looking at his hands, muttering an '_oh_'... Konstantin immediately felt a horrible pang of guilt stab him in the stomach... Thankfully, Aurel really only did look sad for a single moment.

"Ah... I understand." He replied, offering him a smile again.

That had been surprisingly easier than Konstantin had expected it to be. He had to blink in confusion to make sure he wasn't just making that answer up in his head or something. "Eh, really?"

Aurel nodded, shuffling back down. "We've been through this before..." He rested his head down on the pillow, peering up at him still. "But... Just one more night, Kosta. That's alright, isn't it?"

One more night? Konstantin let out another sigh, inwardly. It wasn't just going to be one more night – the very next night, he'd probably say exactly the same thing. Still, he'd nearly dampened his spirits once. He didn't have the heart to risk doing it again. "Fine." He knelt off the bed and placed his notebook and pen in his bag. Then, he headed over to his wardrobe to get his night clothes. "One more night." He made sure to say firmly, before disappearing into the bathroom to change.

That was another reason he was at risk, sharing a bed with Aurel so often – the device... It was almost amazing he hadn't noticed it already. Once out of the bathroom and back over to the bed, the Romanian brought that very subject up, to his discomfort.

"You've become too modest, you know." He was lying on his back now, staring up at him. "You didn't used to dress in the bathroom all the time..."

With a frown, Konstantin switched off the bedside lamp, before sliding beneath the sheets next to the other. "Yeah." He replied, wondering if just saying that would get the other off his case... He doubted it.

Aurel yawned. "Mmn, is there something you're not telling me?"

As he lay down on the device, Konstantin could feel it jabbing into his arm, as if on purpose. "No... There's nothing."

"Nothing?" Aurel repeated, turning on his side again to face him. "Really, now, Kosta... I know you better than that." The smile on his face was waning again, but somehow, he didn't look sad either. His voice became considerably quieter then, just barely above a whisper. "I've been wondering why for a while now."

It wasn't that Konstantin didn't want to tell Aurel about the device; on the contrary, he did think it would've been a considerable weight off his chest if he could. Asides from the fact that he'd been sworn to secrecy, it wasn't something he wanted to trouble Aurel with.

It was difficult to look into his eyes then, though, and say once more, "It's nothing, honest. Go to sleep."

His smile spreading again, Aurel shuffled closer to Konstantin, resting their heads close together on the pillow. "If you say so." He muttered, his eyes becoming half-lidded. "Say, would you meet with me tomorrow? There's something I'd like to show you."

"Yeah... Sure." Konstantin mumbled in response, watching him.

Aurel's eyes closed fully. "Is the roof of the western class building alright? At six o'clock?"

"That's fine..."

"Mnh... Thank you."

Left wondering what it was he wanted to show him, Konstantin shut his own eyes, drifting off to sleep soon after.

* * *

Arthur didn't see Alfred until Technology class in second period. Luckily, Arthur wasn't told by Japan to work with Germany again; rather, the teacher was quite intent on showing Arthur how to do things himself, this time. After a few practise runs of metal welding, Japan seemed happy with his progress and told him to aid Alfred and Eduard instead, before heading off to check on each of the other students.

Alfred didn't speak of anything unrelated to class until the period was over, however. In fact, showing a rather childlike excitement over the fact Arthur was going to be working with them, he was more concerned with showing him what to do – how to connect certain wires together and hold them in place, what materials to use, and the like. He also explained how work was slow without Tino around, as he was their main pair of hands for the job. Eduard all the while stood to Alfred's right on the work bench, goggled and piecing copper wires together as Alfred had demonstrated, looking very focused on his task at hand and hence saying nothing. Finding working with them – dare he say it – somewhat enjoyable, it wasn't until they left class and found themselves back out in the morning daylight, in the same place they'd been the previous day, that Arthur brought the matter of the student council up again.

"I went yesterday after class. The Principal said it was a pretty good idea, y'know, with what's been going on. He said with the nature of this place, there'd never been a chance for a student council before." Arthur listened very closely to what Alfred was saying, so the sound of others chatting away as they walked around them wouldn't cause him to miss anything. "But yeah, he thinks maybe it'd be, like, y'know, comforting for there to be student reps to turn to? Yeah, somethin' like that. Either way, I think it's a green light." He grinned at that.

That was good to hear, Arthur thought. "Well, that was certainly easier than I thought it would be."

Alfred gave a bit of a shrug. "Yeah, well, he's putting the idea forward to China. He's gonna be the one to organise it all, I reckon."

The two of them headed back to the dorm building; it was a clear day, and mostly everyone was hanging outside for the short break time.

"So, Artie, you like soccer?" Alfred asked when Arthur had paused in thought and caused their conversation to die down.

Arthur was sure he'd answered this at the weekend. "Football? Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

He glanced over at Alfred and saw that the American's face was beaming; almost slyly, like he was plotting something in that 'clearly-not-as-empty-as-Arthur-had-initially-supposed' head of his.

"_What_?" Arthur asked snappily, knotting his brow in confusion.

Alfred gave a bit of a laugh, then furrowed his own forehead too, but in a very different manner to Arthur. He looked determined. "Hehe! _Perfect_! This'll all be a piece of cake then! You'll be the most popular guy in school in no time!"

At first he was unsure of what football had to do with popularity... And then, Arthur realised something else. "Oh... Yes, about that..." He began with a laboured tone of voice. "I did want to mention, before you did anything-"

"Dude, _all _the popular guys are on the soccer team!" Alfred interrupted, his volume raising to a level that made Arthur feel uncomfortable, as he didn't really want anyone listening in on their conversation.

"W-Well... Good for them!" Arthur sardonically met the same volume as the other. Of course Alfred would have claimed that all the popular students were on the soccer team, seeing as how the American himself was clearly on it. With an exasperated sigh, he then grabbed Alfred's arm and tugged him into their dorm building as fast as he could, before any of the other students lingering around the quad could eavesdrop. "Come, in here!" He hissed.

Alfred seemed unscathed by his sudden aggravation. "Seriously, I mean it. You should join the team." He went back to speaking with what was probably his 'inside voice', by his own standards, but he was still smiling broadly.

Arthur didn't stop dragging him until they were upstairs and near to both of their dorm rooms. Then, he turned to him, still visibly annoyed, particularly about having been interrupted. "I don't think that's going to help, somehow."

"Why wouldn't it?" Again, Alfred's demeanour didn't shift at all.

Arthur had to try very hard not to shake his head whilst he told it to the younger student straight. "_Because_..." He stressed. "...Just because I _like_ football, doesn't mean I'm _good _at it." He didn't like admitting aloud that he wasn't good at something, and hence he began to scowl again as he spoke.

Suddenly, the smile disappeared from Alfred's face at once. He looked thoroughly confused. "But... You're British."

"_Yes_?" Arthur said slowly, as if the American spoke a different language and was having trouble comprehending him. "So?"

"_Sooooo_..." Alfred tilted his head to the side a bit. "British people are good at soccer."

Feeling his hand twitch, as if it was going to fly straight up and smack into his forehead, Arthur's face dropped. He tutted, clenching said hand into a fist to resist actually doing that. Perhaps he would take back that mental comment he made about Alfred not being as stupid as he first appeared after all. "Oh, _of course_, how silly of me to forget my entire home country is populated by elite football players!" He said sarcastically, cocking an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should go find Doctor Who, and we can fly back to England on a unicorn, and then ask the Queen over tea and biscuits what _else_ I've forgotten!"

There was a pause, before the words seemed to sink in to Alfred's mind. Then, he just grinned again, his eyes completely lighting up as he asked in sheer juvenile excitement, "You know the Doctor?"

Arthur let a long, strained huff out of his lungs. He then made a flicking over his head with his wrist. "And _there _goes the point."

Alfred folded his arms, ignoring Arthur's vexation and looking as if he was rethinking for a moment. "So, okay, you're not good at soccer. But that doesn't mean you can't _get_ good at it! C'mon, Artie, _please_?"

"No." Arthur answered sharply, turning to make his way towards his dorm.

"_Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease_?" Alfred began to trot after him.

"No!"

"_Arrrrrrrrrtiiiiiiiiiiiiieeee eeeeeeeee_!" He whined.

"_No_!"

"Please? Pleaseeeee! It'll be fun! Just come this one time, after school tonight? Please? Just trust me on this!"

Arthur paused outside his door. Quite sure Alfred wasn't going to stop annoying him about it unless he agreed, he looked back over at him with a sigh. "Just tonight?" He asked. "There's no ridiculous contracts I'll be made to sign that'll indebt me into playing every week, is there?"

Alfred looked hopeful. "Pfft, nah, there's nothing like that, man. We play to practise, s'not like we've anyone to compete with or anything."

So it was uncompetitive? That made it sound a little better. Still, he was reluctant. Frowning, he shifted closer to the door, his eyes still fixed on the American. "_Fine_. I will come today, and that will be it. Understand?"

"_Yes_!" Alfred appeared to almost jump up on the spot. "Awesome, man! I gottit!"

* * *

When he visited the infirmary after last period, Konstantin both was and wasn't surprised to find someone else in the waiting area. Rumours of what had happened to Tino had spread far faster than what had happened to Jovan, and he could think of a few reasons why. First off, the fight between Tino and Gilbert had happened within the Academy walls, and had been witnessed by other students. There was that, and there was also the very obvious fact that hardly anyone cared for Jovan – at least, in comparison to how many were concerned for Tino's wellbeing. Konstantin couldn't blame them; Tino was a nice guy and made friends easily. He also had his brother figures, and they themselves had their own friends. Though the situation with the shooting had been relatively hushed apart from the initial announcement made at the assembly, he had a feeling those who became aware of the fact it was Jovan whom was wounded would have mostly shrugged it off, perhaps even supposed he had deserved it. Maybe he was jumping to dreary conclusions, but asides from himself, Svetlana, Ivan (the Russian delegate) and, on the one occasion – though the concern had probably been directed more at Konstantin himself – Aurel, no one else seemed to have given much of a damn that Jovan had a bullet in his leg. But from what he'd heard, listening to the mutterings of gossip in class or in hallways or the cafeteria, the concept of the rogues out there was a bigger deal to them than the actuality of the event that had taken place. Though, the more he thought about it, the more he saw it as understandable. They knew of the danger, everyone _knew_ of the danger, but to anyone that wasn't him or Jovan, it wasn't yet a reality. _Yet_.

He took a seat next to the only other person in the room. He could tell, from just seeing the back of her long brown hair and summer dress (today's was a yellowy colour), that it was Erzsébet. The Hungarian delegate, roughly a year older than Konstantin himself, had become the Academy's Cookery teacher at the start of that term, but before that, he had considered her one of his friends... Despite a few things that had distanced them, her new position of authority being one of them, he still did consider her a friend, in many respects, and knew she wouldn't object to him sitting so close by.

She did glance up in slight surprise at first, but then smiled. "Hey, Kosta. Are you here to see Tino?"

His eyes panned from the doorway in front of them towards her. "No." He replied plainly, not minding their avoidance of their delegate names outside of class hours. "Jovan."

Erzsébet blinked, then nodded knowingly. "Oh, of course. He's here too." True to his suspicions, she didn't sound all that upset about it. "Mrs. Hassan should let us in soon, she's just checking Tino's jaw over." At that moment, her eyebrows slanted downwards and her eyes went cold. "Can you _believe_ what happened? Gilbert's such a shithead sometimes! He didn't see anything, he just wanted to pick a fight!" As he expected, she was getting angry just mentioning Gilbert; the two of them had never seen eye-to-eye. "That asshole thinks he can get away with anything and everything being the Vice Principal's son!"

Konstantin rubbed the back of his neck a bit. "Is that what happened?"

"Well, of course Gilbert won't admit that was the reason. But you know what he's like; he had no evidence to suspect Eduard of anything." She sighed in a huff. "Anyway..." There was a small tin in her hands, and she motioned to it then, bringing it to his attention. "I made a batch of salmiakki for Tino." Another smile crossed her face then. "I hope his mouth's well enough for him to eat it."

Mrs. Hassan opened the doors to the ward, at that moment. They looked towards her, and she examined Konstantin for a second, seeming to take a mental note of him being there, before motioning for them to enter. "You can come through now. Both of you."

The ward was as brightly white as ever, though today there was a lingering scent of disinfectant. Cuba had probably been in to clean the floors not long before. Erzsébet, whom entered before Konstantin, stepped away to the left side of the room, towards the bed at the very end there, where Tino's figure was lying above the sheets. Konstantin took a good look over that way, seeing that his face and neck were badly bruised, one cheek bandaged and swollen and the side of his lip bust open. He was reading a magazine, though when he saw Erzsébet approach, he put it down with what must have been the best smile he could pull off. Not wanting to pry any further, Konstantin made his way over to the far right side of the room.

Jovan, too, was sat above his sheets, unlike the last time Konstantin had visited. He was dressed in plain cotton shorts and a t-shirt, his injured leg bandaged neatly and propped up. At the side of his bed, resting just next to the window he was staring out of, was a crutch. This was a better sight than Konstantin had expected to see.

He stood beside the bed, but Jovan didn't seem to notice he was there. Konstantin raised an eyebrow, and spoke to knock him out of his daze, sounding a little amused, "What's out there that's so interesting?"

Jovan blinked and turned his head to look up at him. "Eh... Oh, s'you." His eyes trailed back towards the window. "Nothin'. I was just thinking's all."

A wry expression formed on Konstantin's face. He found the concept of Jovan thinking to be a bit of an oddity. "What about?"

"The future." He replied, still looking at the pale sun lighting up the view of the grassy area outside, which was actually pretty uninteresting. "Y'know. The near future. Stuff like that."

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Konstantin's stomach. He had a good idea what Jovan was talking about. After pulling a plastic chair from the bedside nearer to where he was stood, he lowered down into it.

Jovan looked back over at him with a frown. "Why're you here, anyway?"

"I haven't visited since Sunday. I figured you could use the company." Konstantin replied, slouching forwards in the seat.

"Pft, company?" Jovan snorted. "That's not somethin' I need, _bre_. Lana's been here most of the time."

Konstantin gave a half shrug. "I'm not Lana."

Making a 'tch' sound in his throat, Jovan shook his head slowly. Once again, his gaze went straight back out of the window. In the quiet that followed, Konstantin could hear Erzsébet and Tino's conversation, though it was only carried across the room as a muffled drone, and he couldn't tell what they were talking about.

"Hey, look... About Lana..." Jovan spoke up again, after a good few prolonged moments passed.

"...Yeah?" Konstantin felt his stomach sink deeper all of a sudden. It wasn't like Jovan to get so pensive and broody over something, so that something must have been significant.

"Look after her for me."

With the matter confirmed in Konstantin's mind, he rested his forearms against his knees, lowering his head and nodding it steadily, whilst still peering over at Jovan. "You're going, aren't you?"

Jovan, too, nodded. "Yeah." To Konstantin's surprise, there was a slight smile on his face.

"Why?" Part of him felt like he shouldn't have had any doubt in the first place about it, that Jovan was going to cross over regardless of whether he was wounded or not.

The Serb broke his gaze out of the window to look towards him again. "Germania said they can fix my leg there." He explained. "Prob'ly gonna get some kinda plate in it or whatever. Sounds a hell of a lot better than stayin' here and bein' a Goddamn cripple, anyway."

Konstantin took another momentary glance at the crutch against the wall. "Well, at least there's that."

After shuffling up the bed an inch, Jovan put his hands behind his head on the pillow. "Sorry I couldn't kick your ass again in another rematch, _bre_." He snickered. "Guess you'll have to find someone else to do it."

It was a shallow concept, for him to have been bothered about the fact they wouldn't be able to face each other on the court again. Still, it was a depressing thought; Konstantin had put what must have seemed like a ridiculous amount of effort into physical training so that he had a chance to beat Jovan. Jovan himself probably did the same, so that his own standard didn't slip. It was frustrating, to Konstantin, how it now all seemed for naught.

With that thought in mind, Konstantin nodded his head again. "I don't care about that." He lied.

Jovan snorted. "Sure ya don't, _bre_."

Silence fell between them once more, but this time, Konstantin didn't end up taking notice of Erzsébet and Tino. He struggled to find something else to say, but when he did, he broke the uneasy quiet as quickly as he could. "When you go, I don't think Lana will be far behind you."

"Nah." A grin plastered onto Jovan's face. "She'll miss me and my amazingness too much."

Konstantin couldn't help but let out a low laugh. "I don't know how she puts up with you."

The grin died down to a mere smile, and there was a warm glint in Jovan's eyes that was unbecoming of him. "Well, Kosta, how do you think I put up with her when she's bein' whiny and clingy as fuck?"

Lifting his shoulders a bit, Konstantin replied, "With a hell of a lot of patience, I guess?"

"Oh, _bre_, _come on_!" Jovan cackled. "I thought _you_ were s'posed to be the sappy one of us two!" He rolled his eyes a bit, his tone going even more uncharacteristically sentimental. "I'm talkin' about love, _bre_."

Konstantin didn't know what was more uncomfortable, the fact that Jovan was essentially confirming that his relationship with Svetlana was more than a stupid high school crush type thing, or the fact that Jovan was talking about love like he knew perfectly well what it was. He decided both were equally as unnerving.

"...Huh." He muttered out, half-heartedly, looking down towards the bedsheets.

"Wha's wrong?" Jovan's tone of voice went contentious once more. "You jealous of that, or somethin'?" Konstantin didn't need to glance back up at him to see the smug expression smeared over the other's countenance.

Somehow, whether it was his subconscious telling him not to indulge Jovan, or whether his feelings towards the matter were genuine, he really didn't care as much as he thought he should have.

"No." He nodded his head a bit, giving the other student eye contact again. "No, I'm not."

"Good. I'm glad." Jovan said, plainly, moving his own gaze to stare back out of the window. "I think I can leave without any regrets now, y'know?"

A light frown on his face, Konstantin raised an eyebrow. "That's a lie. You never had any regrets to begin with."

Jovan paused, and then scoffed, "Ah, you know me too damn well, _bre_."

* * *

It was later, when Arthur found himself down on the eastern field (which was the space between the east class building and the eastern wall; the place Alfred had told him to come to that afternoon) in his gym kit, that he realised his own initial hesitation towards the idea had been for the best after all.

There had to have been thirty students there, all seated at the side of the class building, when he awkwardly approached. He glanced around the group, shuffling towards where Alfred was sat chatting to whom he remembered as Toris, the boy who had been with them in the car coming back from town. A few pairs of eyes glanced towards Arthur, but otherwise the group took little notice of him.

"Hey, Artie, you made it!" Alfred patted him on the shoulder as Arthur took a seat by the two of them. "You've met Toris, right?"

"Erm, briefly, yes." Arthur replied. Toris just offered him a polite smile, and so he began to scan about the rest of the gathering with his eyes. "Blimey... There's more people here than I expected." To his surprise, there were even a few female students speckled here and there amongst the males. He began to pick out faces he knew – the two Italian brothers were sat nearby Antonio and Ludwig, on the far side of the group, and a dark haired young man he recognised as the Croatian delegate, whom he had shared the World History class with before his move into Swordsmanship was amongst them, as was the large, lumbering figure of the Russian delegate; his head poking a couple of inches above everyone else's, sitting alone and yet smiling serenely (almost _too_ serenely) at the rest of them. Adéla, the girl Arthur had met in the computer suite yesterday, sat leaning against the building casually, her arm resting on top of the shoulder of another male student, one whom looked rather large and gangly despite his young face, and had a square jaw and brown, slightly curly hair.

Like many of the teachers, Arthur had seen Cameroon briefly around the Academy, but as he didn't take Track – the subject that he taught – as a class, he hadn't seen him up close. The man was tall, dark and bespectacled, and he had a large scar on the back of his head, just behind his ear. When he arrived on the scene, the chatter of the students grew quieter, and everyone began to rise from their seats on the grass.

Cameroon rested a large rucksack full of footballs on the grass near to the students, and then took a whistle out of the pocket of his dark green track top and pulled it over his neck. "I want you all to practise shooting and blocking today." He explained, promptly, taking out a football from the top of the sack. "Work in teams of four or five. Spread yourselves out against the wall and take it in turns to be the goalkeeper. Brazil, please help me demonstrate."

A tanned young man with scruffy black hair hopped out of the group and towards where Cameroon stood. He looked pretty happy about being picked out. They all moved closer to the east wall, and the Brazilian delegate then took his position against it, looking back towards the group and squatting on his knees slightly, licking his lips and rubbing his hands in preparation, wearing a very determined expression. Cameroon turned his back to the group and let the ball drop to his feet. He took a step back, before moving forward in a focused run, and with a heavy kick, he sent the ball flying towards the side of Brazil, a loud impact noise resounding and causing Arthur to wince. The dark haired student's head snapped to the side momentarily, and just in time, he jumped out and grabbed the ball, tucking it under his arm and landing in a roll on the grass. All of this happened in a matter of seconds – it was not quite the level of speed that Jovan and Konstantin had shown in their tennis match, but it was quite incredible, nonetheless.

"Very good." Cameroon nodded. "As Brazil has demonstrated, it is important to recognise which direction the ball is going to be heading in. Practise accordingly for thirty minutes, and we'll have a game afterwards."

The beginning of the practise was what made Arthur know for sure that he shouldn't have come. Alfred volunteered to be the goalkeeper in their team first. He managed to block most of Toris's shots from the side, though occasionally he slipped up and missed one. The Greek delegate – and the son of the woman in the toga whom worked the front desk – Heracles, had also joined their team for numbers sake; he was a particularly lazy senior, whom looked half-asleep most of the time, but when he stepped up to volley the ball, he didn't fail to get it past Alfred, whom was usually left face down in the grass afterwards. Amazing as it was to watch, Arthur couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by their level of skill. He wasn't as fast as Toris or Heracles, or Alfred, or any of the other students in the other teams, so it seemed. Much to his annoyance, when his own turn came, and he proceeded to kick the ball at Alfred, the American dove forward and caught it before it had even got near the wall.

"Will you stop doing that!?" He snapped in aggravation, after the fifth time. His outburst made Toris jump.

Alfred laughed loudly, and jogged over, thrusting the ball into Heracles's grasp. The Greek looked at it with a bored expression for a moment. "Hey, you really do suck at this!" He grinned. "You go in goal next, Artie. We'll try to go easy on ya."

Of course, they did exactly the opposite. Well, _Alfred _did, at least. Toris seemed to ease up; he was, thankfully, at least _trying _to give Arthur a chance, though he made several apologetic grimaces at Arthur when he'd fumbled trying to grab the ball. Alfred didn't make things easier at all, though. His volleys were fast, relentless and hard, and at one point the ball slammed straight into Arthur's gut. Feeling as if he could throw up at any point during the rest of the hour, he at grit his teeth and made himself continue with the rest of the practise session, knowing any more shots he took against Toris or Heracles would be saved regardless. When Cameroon blew his whistle and called for them to stop, Arthur didn't know whether he was angrier with Alfred, or himself.

The students all reformed in a cluster in the centre of the field. Two goal nets had been set up at either end of the field in the time they had spent shooting and blocking. Cameroon asked them all to return their balls to the sack; after that was done, he took one under his arm himself.

"Italy Veneziano and Argentina. You'll be the captains for this game." Cameroon said clearly, over the occasional hushed mutterings of the group. "Come forward and pick your teams."

The younger of the Italian brothers and a ruddy blond boy both made their way to the front, turning towards the group. Cameroon flipped a red Allowance chip between the two of them, clapping his hand over the top quickly.

Seeing this, the Argentinian delegate cried, "Tails!"

Cameroon lifted his hand away. "Tails it is. You can pick first."

All the while, the Italian next to them stood with a dopey expression, as if confused about what was going on, though his attention was quickly drawn towards the rest of the students again at that moment.

Argentina pointed a finger into the crowd. "Brazil."

Brazil emerged as he had done before, and stood on Argentina's right.

"_Ve_...? Oh!" The Italian said brightly. "Fratello! I pick my fratello!"

His older brother, the temperamental 'Lovi' boy Arthur had encountered in Cookery class, lumbered forward, not exactly looking happy about being picked out by his brother.

"Uruguay." Argentina said next.

Another pause from the Italian. "Spain!"

"Croatia."

"Germany!"

"Chile."

"Greece!"

"Russia."

"Australia!"

"Mexico."

"Czechia!"

"Korea."

"France!"

Arthur, sure he wasn't going to be chosen, stumbled away to the side, rubbing at his aching stomach and not really listening to the remaining selections. He was left as one of six, whom sat on the sidelines whilst the other twenty-four students collected coloured vests from two other rucksacks and put them on over their white gym shirts; Italy Veneziano's team in red, Argentina's in blue. Too distracted by his aching stomach to care, he only took note that Alfred had gone to join the red team, and Toris the blue.

"'lo, England." One of the students took a seat on the sidelines next to him; he didn't take note of who it was until they began to talk, though. "Y'look like yer gonna heave."

Off the bat, he grunted a reply. "Urh... Yeah, I got... Hit in the stomach..."

The student laughed, which only served to annoy him. "Ey, tha's pretty funny, actually."

Arthur raised his head to shoot a glare at him. He was older than he was, a mop of dark red hair on his head and his pasty face dappled with numerous freckles. It wasn't difficult to come to the conclusion that he was one of the Irish delegates.

He looked away again with a flustered frown. "Not for me, it isn't."

The wind had been knocked out of him, for sure, but it didn't prevent Arthur from watching the match at all. Yet he didn't enjoy it – not because it wasn't entertaining, but because it made him feel inadequate and minuscule, and he hated feeling like that. After the two sides had gotten in position, ready to play, Cameroon had blown the whistle and dropped the ball. Instantly, the two assigned captains had darted towards the centre of the pitch like bullets; the Italian moved almost too fast for the eye to see. However, said player fumbled when he reached the ball and was promptly tackled by the Argentinian delegate. It then became apparent that they weren't the only ones who were insanely fast runners, when the rest of the two teams started to move around. Argentina crossed the ball up the field to the Croatian student, whom was already in a very quick jog, but proceeded to speed into a full run once he'd gotten possession of the ball. The entire blue team shifted in seconds towards their opponents' goal, but they didn't get much closer before Antonio stepped in to block a pass from Croatia to Colombia. The red team now in possession of the ball, everyone piled back down to the other side of the field.

Each side moved like clockwork throughout the game. Their speeds were varied, as were their skills, but they all seemed to work well with each others' strengths and weaknesses. The fastest students were, by far, the two Italian delegates; they practically moved up and down like blurs, though the younger of the two was prone to missing his targets a few times, much to the apparent annoyance of the elder. The first goal came a minute into the game, from the Algerian delegate playing for the red team; he seemed to have managed to slip it in with a volley that sent the Armenian goalkeeper pouncing the wrong way when attempting to make a catch. Being one-nil down fired the blue side back up, and the delegate from South Korea, a tall, chipper boy from Arthur's Archery class, was the next to score. He followed his goal up by gloating, tossing his hair and making several ridiculous kissy faces to everyone in sight. The two teams were very evenly matched; _too _evenly matched, as they then took it in turns to pile up and down the pitch to score.

Arthur had thought that only students prepared to cross over were physically that able. How wrong he was. Particularly with Alfred and Francis (both of whom being the two he probably knew the best); he'd seen them walking or jogging like perfectly normal human beings, but until that afternoon, he'd never witnessed them partaking in something that could be defined as physically demanding.

He hadn't realised how hard he'd been trying to focus on the Alfred-shaped blur on the opposite side of the field (attempting to make sense of his movements) until there was a slamming noise and Cameroon blew his whistle. The match ground to a halt, and all heads turned towards where the Chilean student lay on the grass, curling up into a foetal position next to the ball. The tall figure of the Russian delegate stood lingering over his body, and though Arthur hadn't seen what had happened, it was clear that the two of them had collided, somehow; leaving the Chilean in pain, and the Russian unscathed.

"Foul!" Cameroon called across the pitch, making his way quickly to the scene.

"_Nyet_! That wasn't a foul." Russia replied innocently, yet with a perturbing air about him. He smiled brightly and reached down, picking up the groaning Chilean by the shoulders (which startled him and made him writhe a bit), before putting him back on his feet. "Chile took a dive!"

Cameroon frowned heavily. "I know what I saw." He replied, before turning to the rest of the players and declaring, "The blue team will take a penalty!"

Arthur decided that watching Russia, whom now looked thoroughly confused, was too disturbing; he didn't think he wanted to know exactly what had happened, and exactly what Cameroon had seen. His eyes fell on the Chilean who was staggering across the field towards where he and the other spares were sat. Said player then near collapsed with a strained wheeze next to the small group. Arthur couldn't help but wince a bit at the noise he had made.

All focus shifted then to the red team's goal, which was guarded by the Australian delegate. He bent his knees, patting his hands together as Brazil stepped up to the penalty spot with the ball. After dropping it to his feet and lowering himself to a similar level as the goalkeeper, Brazil took a couple of steady steps back, before lunging forward and slamming the ball at the net with his foot. Australia flung himself in that direction mere moments too late, for the ball had already been hurtled into the goal, causing the posts to creak, as if the entire frame was about to tumble over from the impact.

The cheering from the entire blue side came only after Cameroon had blown the final whistle mere moments later. The eleven young men and one young woman huddled together, patting each other on the shoulders and backs happily. One or two of the red team seemed annoyed, but the rest of them shrugged off the defeat. It had been a draw up until the penalty was taken, anyway.

"Good game, eh?" The Irish student asked.

Arthur hugged his knees to his chest, the feeling of inferiority failing to disappear. "I suppose." He muttered.

The other students who had been on the sidelines around them began to raise from their seats. Before Arthur could do the same, however, the Irishman leaned in sideways towards him.

"Are yeh busy tonight?" He asked, his voice hushed.

Arthur paused, and then meet the other's tone to answer, "Not really. Why?"

"Do me a favour, then. Come t'room 130 in the dorms at six or so. Can yeh do that?"

They hadn't been looking at each other as they spoke, until Arthur glanced sidelong at him, then. This being one of the Irish delegates, he had a good feeling he knew why he was asking him to do that. "This wouldn't happen to be about Cameron, would it?"

The red-haired male grinned. "If you think it is, sure." With that, the older student heaved himself up from the ground, his eyes panning back down towards Arthur. "Room 130. Keep it in mind."

Arthur watched him walk away without another word, or a second glance back. Clearly, he wanted to keep the meeting – or whatever it was – as secretive as he could. He could understand why. Though he still wasn't happy about how the football session overall had made him feel, he had recovered from the blow to the stomach from Alfred by then, at least. He looked over his shoulder at Chile, who was a couple of yards away from him, being checked over by Cameroon and a couple of other students, before standing up, himself.

Room 130, in the dorms, at around six... Despite all that he knew so far; despite the fact Cameron had told him of the other British and Irish delegates, and despite all his suspicions that came with knowing these things, Arthur couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was that he wanted of him.

* * *

Six o'clock came, and Konstantin left what he'd done so far of his homework that evening to depart from the dorm and find Aurel. He hadn't seen his friend at all that afternoon, which he found strange; usually he'd at least show his face back at the dorm once after class.

The sky outside was dark overhead with smudges of orange from the sunset on the western horizon, and the faint chill of night beginning to take the warmth out of the air. The campus was almost always still and silent at this hour; no one really left the dorm buildings after classes were over unless they had to. Despite the fact he'd come when Aurel had asked him to, and to the specified location, there was no trace of the Romanian around the western class building, as Konstantin discovered when he approached that part of the school. Aurel had said to meet him on the roof, which could be accessed from the inside, but also by a thin ladder on the south wall of the building. Since the class buildings were undoubtedly locked by now, he had no choice but to scale the ladder. Aurel wasn't up there waiting for him, either, though.

He went back down, deciding he'd wait for him there instead. Surely Aurel couldn't have forgotten about their meeting himself, could he? He was the one who had wanted to show Konstantin something, why would he have let it slip his mind? Once again, as he had done on and off that day, he allowed his mind to wander back to what that something could possibly have been. Maybe it was a trick or something Lukas had shown him at the magic club the night before. That – as weird as it came across – would have explained why he'd been so happy... Aurel was the type to get overly excited over things that seemed incredible to him, yet trivial to others. That explanation made enough sense, but somehow Konstantin didn't think Aurel had asked him to come out here so he could show him that he'd learnt how to pull a rabbit out of his little top hat.

His trail of thoughts was cut short, however, when a voice called out his name. It wasn't Aurel's voice, but it was familiar all the same. When he glanced over, he saw Svetlana, of all people, jogging towards him.

"Kosta!" She cried again, and he noticed the closer she got to him, the more frantic she both looked and sounded.

He cocked an eyebrow, asking as she slowed to a halt, "Hey, what's wrong?"

She drew in a deep breath to compose herself, though it didn't seem to help much. "H-Have you seen my necklace around here anywhere? T-The one I wear all the time?"

A pensive frown crossed Konstantin's face. "You wear a necklace?" He'd never seen her wearing one, then again, neither the girls' uniform nor Svetlana's own choice of clothes had particularly low-cut necklines (not that Konstantin actually _looked_ in that area all too often, of course).

"Well... Y-Yeah! I keep it under my shirt though..." Svetlana nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes widened and shifting about quickly. "I-It's plasticky, and a gold colour, and it has a pendant with a red gem on it. Have you seen anything like that around here?"

He thought it over for a moment. He hadn't been looking specifically, but nor had he spotted jewellery of any variety lying around on his walk across campus.

"No, I haven't." He answered plainly. "When did you last have it?"

"Umm..." She looked downwards, hugging her arms around her middle and shifting the weight on her feet a bit. "Well, I went to take a shower after class and I'm pretty sure I left it on my nightstand in my dorm room..."

He expected her explanation to continue after that, but instead, her voice trailed off into silence. So, he spoke up instead. "Why're you looking out here and not in your dorm, then?" He asked this quite slowly, as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

Svetlana glanced back up at him quickly, becoming more and more distressed. "B-Because, I've looked everywhere in my dorm! And it's not there! A-And no one could have stolen it! It's a worthless piece of junk!"

In spite of the fact that there was now an apparently overly-vexed Svetlana in front of him, Konstantin didn't give much of a reaction. "Uh. If it's a piece of junk, why are you getting so upset?"

"Because it's not a piece of junk!" She snapped at him, huffing and clenching her fists.

He blinked a little in surprise at her reaction there, now more confused than ever. "But you just... Said it _was_..."

She folded her arms and shook her head, trying to calm down again. "It's a _special _piece of junk, Kosta! Jovan gave it to me a year ago!" She lowered her tone of voice, but even in the dark of the evening, he could make out a visible line of worry across her brow.

So, it was sentimental value that was making her so dismayed. Konstantin supposed he could understand _that_, at least. What he was trying to get his head around was the clear inconsistencies in her story. "So... You mean to tell me you left it on your nightstand and it just _vanished_?"

"W-Well... I-It must be somewhere around school, right?" She went quieter still, pouting a little.

"Things don't just... Disappear like that, though..." He scowled.

She brought a hand up to her forehead, rubbing at it. "Yeah, I know... That's why I'm looking out here... In case I dropped it and I just thought I took it off..."

Konstantin, unable to comprehend Svetlana's apparent lack of memory among other things, gave a sigh. "It sounds like someone took it. Did you ask your roommate anything?"

"She was out of the dorm the entire time." She muttered.

He chewed the matter over a little longer, before concluding that there was no clear solution to the problem. "Sorry, I don't know what else you can do, then."

Svetlana shook her head, dejected. "It's okay... I'll just have to keep looking." A long, thin frown crossed her face for a moment, and then she blinked suddenly, as if she'd realised something. "Oh, what are you doing out here, anyway?"

"I'm waiting for Aurel." He gave a bit of a shrug as he replied. "He wanted to show me something."

"Out here?"

"This is where he told me to come."

It was growing steadily darker out, and with no light source around the building, it was now difficult for Konstantin to see Svetlana properly. Regardless, he could distinguish what appeared to be a smile on her face, then.

"It must be something big! I'll leave you be, Kosta. See you later!" She seemed to brighten up a little for that moment, before turning to leave.

Konstantin opened his mouth, thinking he was going to say his goodbye to her. But what came out of his mouth instead seemed to come as a surprise to them both, but more so to himself.

"Lana, wait!"

She stared back over at him, which caused him to freeze up, until the part of his subconscious that had made him say that decided to continue.

"Er... If you're not... Busy..." He began to mumble a bit, feeling uneasy about his impulsive outburst. "...I'd like it if you stayed until Aurel gets here..."

He sounded stupid. He _knew_ he sounded stupid. Aurel was probably going to turn up at any moment. But for some strange, strange reason, waiting around with company out there in the dark – even if it was Svetlana – felt like it would be better than waiting around alone. He expected her to decline the offer, though; to tell him she had to get back to Jovan, or back to looking for her necklace, or something like that. But she didn't. In fact, she did much the opposite.

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

They sat down on the grass, just next to the ladder. Konstantin cursed himself mentally over and over for having asked her, for now despite the fact he was relieved that she'd agreed, there was a silence between them that he found awkward. Of course, he usually did find being around Svetlana awkward, which was part of the reason he wondered why he'd even asked in the first place. Racking his brain for a discussion topic – anything to talk about, he didn't really care – he couldn't help but think back to his conversation with Jovan earlier on. Bringing up anything about that, though, would most likely have upset her, he figured.

"So, why did he buy you the necklace, anyway?" He asked when the next best thing came to mind.

"Oh... He didn't. He won it at the arcade in town and gave it to me." She answered, picking at the grass idly.

For the first time in their conversation, Konstantin felt as if something had made sense. Buying things for other people sounded _way _too selfless, for Jovan. "I see."

"Yeah. He was going for a better prize but didn't get it."

He gave a slightly bitter snort at that. "Him not winning's a strange concept."

She exhaled. "You don't want to see him lose, Kosta..." She paused, then. "Umm... Well, actually, I guess _you_ _do_, but that's not what I mean... He acts like a little kid when he loses." Her tone of voice gradually got more and more irritated, something that was unusual to hear from her. "A _spoilt, selfish_ little kid."

"He acts that way most of the time anyway." He added, matter-of-factly.

"It's... It's weird, isn't it? He's the biggest idiot at times. He's rude, and vulgar, and throws a fit if he doesn't get what he wants..." She stopped playing with the grass and looked up to stare Konstantin straight in the eye. "But somehow... In the long run, I don't care."

This felt oddly like a deja-vu. Svetlana's shadowed countenance showed a kind of bewildered sorrow, as if she were lost. That awkward discomfort he usually experienced when around her in these situations returned, and he wanted to force himself to look away from her, but didn't; instead, he met her stare, replying as simply as he could, "It's 'cause... You love him, right?"

"Yeah."

She smiled, but it was strained. Even so, her answer was genuine, he could tell. Konstantin knew that once upon a time that response from Svetlana would have made him feel awful, after what had happened between him and her and Jovan two years before. But now, he felt exactly the same as he had when he'd spoken to Jovan in the infirmary earlier. He supposed in retrospect he had never really doubted that they weren't in a 'real relationship'; it was just easier for him to believe it when hearing the confirmation from Svetlana as opposed to from Jovan, perhaps because he had held less of a grudge towards her originally. However, now, he didn't think he held a grudge at all, as he felt like he didn't care as much as he should have. Oh, he hadn't _quite_ forgiven Jovan, but all things considered, he figured there wasn't much point in him being bitter about their relationship at all any more. Perhaps he'd grown up. Or perhaps he'd just moved on... He'd gotten over his fleeting feelings for Svetlana long ago, that was for sure. Considering how close they both were to crossing over now, it all just seemed very trivial.

Konstantin had submerged himself in these thoughts, and he didn't realise until Svetlana spoke again that he'd been staring off back into the distance, into the lit up windows of the foyer building across the quad – visible from the angle he was seated at – that he'd been doing it for a while.

"Um... Kosta?" She asked, going meek in voice.

He gave her a sidelong glance, seeing that she'd folded her legs beneath her and was looking down at her lap now.

"Yeah?"

"Do you... Do you think everything'll be okay in the end?"

Another silence fell. He almost asked her exactly what she meant by that, but he went with the first assumption that came to his mind, instead. Would everything be okay? Would crossing over mean they were free from the island? Would it mean that she and Jovan could be together in spite of what would become of them?

His eyes panned back towards the lights. "I don't know." He replied honestly, trying hard not to sound like he was sighing. "I want it to be okay." Didn't everyone want that?

She spoke again, becoming oddly monotonal, "...If you could do anything... _Anything _at all... What would you do... To make everything okay?

"I'd..." Having never really considered it before, he found that the blindingly obvious answer came to his mind as quite a surprise. "I'd get rid of the training facility..." He paused. "...No, I'd get rid of the entire program altogether."

"And then...?"

Konstantin wasn't the type to keep the emotional strain of the Academy's purpose at the front of his mind... Very few students, in fact, were, because the best way to cope – the best way to _survive –_ was to put those feelings of sorrow, of anguish; the thoughts of loss and of loneliness and of fear to the back of one's mind. Therefore, he couldn't understand why Svetlana was asking all of this. After all, she'd been the one to tell him she didn't need to be told 'no' about her crossing over.

"...And then?" He repeated. "I don't know..."

He heard her exhale deeply, and shakily. He thought at first that she was going to say something more, but it wasn't until her breath shuddered a moment later, causing him to turn his gaze back towards her, that he realised she'd started to cry – her chin tucked, her eyes lidded and her shoulders shivering.

Whereas he'd found her irritating in this state a few days earlier, after he'd told her what had happened to Jovan, seeing her like that now made him feel bad... Not just bad, _awful_, in fact... He nibbled on the inside of his cheek, frowning wryly. Was it something he had said, or was it her own thoughts that had upset her? He figured it was probably both.

"Lana..." He said quietly, shuffling around on the spot towards her.

She hiccuped, and brought her hands to her face, covering it and sobbing into them. On instinct, Konstantin put his hand out, intending to put it on her shoulder as a means of comfort – but just before it came into contact with her, the recurring awkwardness he felt about touching her made him flinch back slightly at first, but he quickly shook it off and made himself do it.

He was sure she'd just realised how very _real _everything was.

In that mere minute that passed thereafter, he'd been paying such close attention to her that he hadn't heard the crunching of the grass nearby. He hadn't even realised Aurel had even approached until he coughed and spoke up.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

He'd grabbed Konstantin's attention immediately. He looked up at him, as he stood over them with a slight frown on his face.

"...Nothing, Aurel." Konstantin inwardly winced. He'd actually forgotten Aurel was supposed to have been there, until he'd turned up just then. He rose from his seat and lifted his hand away from Svetlana's shoulder.

"Nothing? It doesn't look like nothing to me." He sounded remarkably bitter as he said this, his eyes leaving Konstantin's face and looking down towards the girl. Shaking his head, he spread his frown. "W-Well... Nevermind."

Konstantin was about to ask what it was Aurel was there to show him, when the Romanian spoke again.

"Poor thing... What did you say to her to upset her so?" As per usual, he didn't sound particularly sympathetic, but right then it seemed more so out of spite than anything else.

Svetlana sniffled, lowering her hands to stare up towards Aurel.

"Things are just..." Konstantin searched as quickly as he could for the end of that sentence. "...Y'know... Difficult, at the moment..."

"I see." Aurel replied promptly, folding his hands behind his back. "Well, I'll just be going now... I suppose I'll have to show you another night, Kosta."

The way he said that, it sounded like he now didn't want to show him whatever it was at all, frustratingly enough. Konstantin was thoroughly confused – what had he, or Svetlana, done to make Aurel apparently so irritated? Surely he wasn't worked up over the fact he was trying to be of comfort to her whilst she was crying?

"Aurel..." He groaned out, but by that time, the other had already set back off towards the dorms.

Konstantin stepped forward, about to follow Aurel, but he then remembered Svetlana was still on the grass. Not wanting to abandon her just to pursue the Romanian, he stopped mid-step and sighed.

"I-Is he okay? That was weird..." Svetlana asked, rubbing at her eyes and pulling herself back to her feet.

He shook his head. "I'll talk to him when I get back. He'll be fine by tomorrow." Normally Aurel got over things like that by sleeping them off, but right now, Konstantin wasn't entirely sure, the reason being he had no clue what exactly it was that had bothered Aurel in the first place. Finding that fact to be irritating, he put it out of his mind, turning back towards her. "C'mon, I'll walk you back to the dorms."

He moved forward again, and she did so to join him, too, but spoke up again at the same time. "Um... I want to go to the infirmary before I go back to the dorms." She gave another sniff, seeming to have pulled herself mostly back together. "...I need to say goodnight to Jovan."

"The foyer, then?"

She nodded in agreement.

The walk that followed was wordless, though Konstantin couldn't help but wonder what Svetlana was thinking all the while. She didn't seem to be any happier than before, but that was understandable – at the very least, she'd stopped crying now. They said goodnight, when they reached the centre of the quad, and he watched her jog off to the building ahead. Once she was inside, he then stepped onwards to the boys' dorms.

There were many times, he realised, that students at the Academy discussed their futures between one another... Or rather, the futures they wouldn't have. But it was one of those musings he tucked in the back of his mind with the others... After all, what could he have done? What could any of them have done, to have prevented the future that awaited them?

* * *

A/N:

Oh sweet lord above I finally finished this piece of crap of a chapter. Phewf! And I'm back to hitting the 10,000 word mark! I also revised all of my earlier chapters, so please, to anyone who has followed this story so far, _please_ go read the entire thing back through!

Thanks for reading!

_-Lusky._


	15. XV

A/N: Before I start this chapter, I just want to say, there's a new poll on my page, regarding Corrupt Circle! If you wouldn't mind all sharing your opinion there, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!

**-gylfie9: **Thank you very much, and I hope you continue to keep tabs on this story!

**-Tanglepelt and Mi3staR: **Thanks again guys, and enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

_**XV.**_

Room 130 was at the very end of the long corridor Arthur's own room was on. He wasn't sure exactly who it belonged to, but he supposed the Irish delegate he'd met at the football session was a good enough assumption. After he had checked the length of the hallway to make sure no one else was around, he knocked firmly on the door.

The red-haired student didn't come to answer, however. Instead, after the handle turned and the door opened, a younger, shorter, black-haired boy was stood there. He was quite sure he recognised him from his Music class... Without exchanging words, the boy nodded Arthur in to the room, shifting back and opening the threshold further for him. Arthur hesitated, not taking it initially it as an invitation inside, but then stepped onwards past the boy as soon as he'd realised it was. The curtains were drawn in the room – understandably, as it was dark out – and the only light switched on in the room was the lamp on the left-hand night stand.

"'Ey! Look who showed up after all!" The Irish student promptly said. He was slumped comfortably on the bed on the right-hand side of the room. "How's yer stomach?"

Arthur looked towards him, the sinking feeling of inadequacy he'd experienced earlier on returning all of a sudden, with the memories of the volley from Alfred landing in his gut. He therefore couldn't help but frown a bit. "Much better now, thank you."

There was another male student, one with thin eyes and messy hair of a dark brown colour, seated on the bed opposite. He spoke to grab Arthur's attention. "Come sit down." He patted the side of the bed next to himself in a lazy motion.

The request didn't seem to inviting, but he did so anyway, perching on the edge and looking over at the Irish student in anticipation, waiting for him to begin explaining what was going on. Arthur hadn't yet been in a dorm that wasn't his own, and the atmosphere was quite different, though he couldn't put his finger on exactly why. The black-haired boy shut the dorm door and then scuttled to the right-hand bed, taking a seat there.

"So, Arthur." The Irish student began. "Can I call ya Arthur?"

Arthur nodded. "I'd prefer it if you did."

"A'ight." He continued. "Name's Eoghan Flynn. As yer've prob'ly guessed, I'm the rep from Éire."

As a matter of fact, Arthur hadn't been able to tell whether or not he'd been the delegate from the Republic of Ireland or from Northern Ireland, but he decided to keep that to himself.

Eoghan jabbed his thumb towards the boy sat next to him, whom continued to wear an apathetic expression on his face.

"This's Sean O'Keeffe, from th'North." He moved his hand to motion across the room, to the student Arthur was seated next to. "And that's Wales-"

"_Daffyd_." Said student interjected. "Daffyd Cadfael."

Arthur nodded along again in acknowledgement of their introductions. It was easy enough for him to tell who they were, but he was glad to know which of the Irish delegates was which, and also quite happy to be able to meet them all face to face. "Cameron mentioned you all."

Eoghan, his lips spreading thinly and his brow twitching in irritation at that, lowered his voice. "_Aye_. Figured he would'a done."

Cameron had failed to give the three of them a proper goodbye before leaving for the training facility, so it was perfectly understandable they'd have been at the very least slightly bitter about the matter, perhaps partly because Arthur himself had been there when he'd left and not them. All the same, Cameron had told him that they'd be angry at first, but would come around eventually and want to help him... Was that time going to be now?

"What else did he tell ya?" Daffyd asked with a look of interest on his face, half-turning in the direction of where Arthur was sat.

"He told me a lot of things." Arthur looked over at the Welsh student as he answered the question, trying to think of those 'things' exactly. "For one, he told me he left you a note." By 'you', he meant Daffyd specifically; though the note had likely been for all three of them, it was Daffyd's belongings Cameron had left them with.

The brunet's face was unchanged, but his eyes opened a little; they seemed to show that something – albeit minor – had clicked in his mind. He shuffled upwards off the bed and slipped his hand into the back pocket of his uniform trousers, pulling out a crumpled up piece of paper. He then slumped back down again, opening it and smoothing it out. "Yeah, this's the note." He handed it over to Arthur, adding, "Cameron's shitty writing's kinda hard to read though."

Daffyd wasn't kidding – the paper looked like it a 12-year-old had scrawled a short story of some variety down in ballpoint pen, judging by the fact that the lettering was small and squished onto the little space the paper provided, and there were several parts scribbled over and rewritten. Arthur narrowed his eyes, attempting to decipher the first line.

"...To... The..." He tried to read aloud what he could make of it, but ended up having to stop at the third word.

"..._Sheepshagger_." Daffyd grumbled under his breath causticity, after the pregnant pause that had followed.

Arthur had to try hard not to laugh at that (he genuinely did think that had been in poor taste on Cameron's part, though). He cleared his throat, and read the line back through. "...'To the Sheepshagger, the'..." He came to another halt, finding the next word an obstacle, too.

"...It's 'Leprechaun'." The Welsh student sighed. "You know what, give it back 'ere, _boyo_, I'll read it for ya."

Leprechaun? He had to give Cameron credit for his sense of humour, at least, despite the bad choice of context. Arthur handed the note back over to the displeased brunet.

"'To the Sheepshagger...'" Daffyd seemed to almost want to spit the first line out like poison. He gave Arthur a withering look with a raised brow. "Meaning me." He said, returning his gaze to the note and adding under his breath something that sounded remotely like _'fucker'_, shrilly, before continuing. "'...The Leprechaun...'"

He nodded his head towards Sean during another small intermission; the Northern Irish boy now had a trace of a scowl on his otherwise placid expression.

"'...And the Mick.'"

"I'm gonna smack 'im one fer that." Eoghan added in a gravely tone, not at all sounding like he was joking.

"Aren't we all." Daffyd told him matter-of-factly, going back to the note. "Anyway. 'If yer reading this, Daffyd'll have emptied his suitcase from our trip to London. As I'm writing this, I – on the other hand – don't plan to do the same when I get back to the Academy. You'll prob'ly know about this, by the time you've read this letter. As the three of ya know, I've reached the criteria for crossing over. My plan was t'go and help Greg with what he was gonna do at that God-forsaken training facility when I was ready, but now, o'course, that isn't possible.'"

Arthur listened closely to the letter as Daffyd read it aloud. The other two on the bed across from them seemed to do the same, despite the fact they'd probably heard it before. It wasn't the most pleasant thing to hear – far from it; it was leaving the room so still and silent apart from Daffyd's voice that it was uncomfortable – but it was of great interest all the same... Arthur did want to know exactly what the note entailed; exactly how Cameron's part of the plan had been put forward to the other three.

"'It sank in, when we were at the funeral. Dunno if it happened for you guys too but it really occurred to me then that Greg was really gone...'" Daffyd lowered his tone, starting to grimace a bit. "'...You can't get much deader than dead, yeah, but standing over his grave back there made it all the more real.'"

Arthur could detect sorrow in the Welsh student's eyes; it wasn't hard to. He looked as if he was trying hard to disguise it, though – in both his voice and his demeanour. Yet he could relate; what was being said would have been sad enough in itself, but that it was about Gregory's death was what made it upsetting to Arthur, and to Daffyd too, most likely.

"'And I realised something. Despite all that shit they give us, despite all Germania and Rome and China tell us about being superhuman, we're not invincible. Yeah, we're smart (depending on how yer look at it), and some of us're strong, and some of us're fast, and some of us've the potential to be all'a those. They might call us superhuman for it, but they can't call us immortal. They'd be a pack'a lying bampots if they did.

"'Anyway, I know Greg wouldn't want us all bawling our eyes over his passing. Or maybe in a weird way he would. I guess that's something we'll be keeping to ourselves rather than each other though. Fact is, we've got his memory to consider more than anything. It wouldn't be fair to think there weren't students at the Academy before our time who hadn't thought of getting off'a that fucking island - _hell_, there's been plenty'a times during our trip where I've been so damn relieved to be away from there that I just wanted to run off at every opportunity I got. Defect back into the U.K., y'know? Prob'ly find my way back up to Edinburgh and pick my old life back up where it left off. Sounds weird, doesn't it? I wonder if you thought along the same lines, Daffyd. Fuck, I'd have dragged yer all away with me.

"'Point is, I could've, but I didn't. It was tempting, yeah, but the one thing that stopped me was the thought of all the others we'd have been leaving behind. But Greg was the only one I knew who wanted to change that fate that had been set for us. Maybe there'd been others before him, that had been unsuccessful in their attempts. But Greg, I think despite what happened to him, he managed a lot of what he set out to do. His plan was the seed of it all, and maybe that seed hasn't grown into much yet, but one day, it will... If you'll overlook the pissing metaphor making me sound like a dick head. Think Greg's influence managed to rub off on me somehow. Next I'll be writing like fucking Shakespeare.

"'In fact, all of this's turning out long winded. It's like I've just written a speech for the funeral or something. Yeah, well, I guess it kinda is that exactly, now that I think about it. But more than anything, this is my own g'bye to you lads. You've prob'ly guessed what my overall point is by now – I'm gonna cross over, and do what Greg set out to do the day he died: I'm gonna try'n take down the training facility from the inside as best I can. It's not gonna be easy, hell, there's not even a chance I'll do any good, but I think so long as I'm there, I'll be at ease knowing I took over from Greg, y'know?

"'But there's another thing Greg told me about. When he was in the children's home in London, before he came to the Academy, he and another kid were evaluated for the program at the same time. He reckons the other kid was too young to know what was going on, and probably ended up forgetting about it, but Greg realised when he came to the Academy that both of them were, well, like us; he knew, 'cause we – whatever we are – hardly grow close to anyone 'cept our own. And this kid was like a little brother to Greg...'"

The words hit Arthur in the heart like a white-hot dagger. He peered down at the dorm room carpet, inhaling a shaky breath through his nose... It was difficult to keep his emotions in-tact, listening to Daffyd read out Cameron's letter, but he fought hard to do so. How he wished he'd been able to see Gregory again before his death, right now...

"'Before he crossed over, he went to Rome'n asked, knowing the kid was one of us, if he could replace him specifically. Greg told him it was 'cause the Academy brings us altogether, all of us _so-called superhumans_, in a place where we can relate to one and other, and have friends and family we lacked before, and he wanted that for his old friend. Rome being Rome, he prob'ly agreed without really thinking there might be any other reason. And maybe that was genuinely part of it. But Greg wanted the kid to come and replace him as the delegate for England, because he was the first person in his life he had ever trusted, and he trusted him to continue his ideals and his work after he'd crossed over.

"'That kid's name is Arthur Kirkland. Right now he's prob'ly in the Academy already. Maybe he knows what happened to Greg, maybe he doesn't. I don't know who he is, 'sides from what Greg told me, but I get the feeling Greg thought he was special, somehow. Maybe he's not, maybe he's just like the rest of us, but I have a good feeling about it. And that's fucking weird, lemme tell you; I don't usually get good feelings from the English.  
"'So, I'm gonna talk to him, and then I'm gonna cross over. When I'm gone, and you've all calmed yer damn tits down about me not saying goodbye properly, what you guys're gonna do is help him. What Greg wanted was a revolt. What we're gonna give the program is a revolt. But yer can't do it overnight; you need a plan, you need allegiance with the rest of the students. Everyone – we want _everyone_ to be free from the program. We came to the Academy to find others like us; we came to find friends, family, and maybe even to find ourselves. We didn't come to be moulded into fucking tools for the U.N.'s personal peacekeeping use! You lads all know this. I know this. It's important that that Arthur kid, whoever he is, knows this.

"'That's that, I guess. So, since I'm long gone by now, I'll say my goodbyes here. Daffyd, yer a prick and a sheepshagger, yer always dampening my spirits with yer attitude and to be honest yer poetry sucks bollocks...'"

At that moment, Arthur looked back up and saw that Daffyd's melancholy expression had turned into a wry one, and he narrowed his eyes at the paper as if to glare a burning hole in it, clearing his throat for a moment before getting on with the speech. "'...But yer a good lad deep down... Y'just happen to sing like yer balls've been clamped in a vice...'" He paused and gave another exasperated sigh. "'I'm writing this on the plane right now and yer over there with yer fucking music sheets for yer fucking choir club. Take things less seriously in the future, that included. But take care of yerself also. That's all I gotta say.'" Slowly, the anger melted away off Daffyd's face. He spread his lips thinly for a moment, and huffed quietly through his nose. "Sean, yer still a kid compared to the rest of us. We've only known yer for a year but we've really taken a liking to ya. Yer not annoying. Yer hardly ever talk, so I've nothing to complain about. Yer just so little, I keep thinking yer gonna skip off into the woods one day and come back with a pot of gold. What I want yer to keep in mind is just 'cause we, and a lot'f the others, are bigger than you are, doesn't mean yer worth any less...'"

Arthur saw that the young Irish student was staring at the floor, much like he had done just before, and was kicking his legs a bit.

"'...It also means yer can prob'ly steal wallets and not get noticed, but since that sounds like bad brotherly guidance, don't do it.'" Daffyd went on to say. "'And last, and least, Eoghan. You've been with me the longest, lad; if ya decide to cross over, yer gonna be the first one I'll see again. I'll also punch ya in the face if ya do cross over, though, 'cause it means ya didn't do what I just fucking asked ya to do. Since yer now the oldest left, you're the one who's gotta keep an eye on the others, y'hear me? Again, take care of yerself too, though.

"'All of ya, stay safe until this's over. I'll see yer all again soon, I swear it.'" Daffyd looked steadily upwards towards Arthur. "'G'bye. Cameron.'"

No one spoke for at least a minute after that. Judging by the fact that all three of the others then fixed their gazes onto Arthur, they were expecting him to say something in response to hearing the contents of the note for the first time... But no words came to his mouth. What could he say? What were they actually expecting him to say? It was hard enough to have to have listened to that note as it was; he couldn't imagine the kind of things that would have been going through their minds when they'd first read it.

To break the silence, Eoghan gave a sigh, sitting forwards on the edge of the bed. "And that's that. That's why we've brought ya here."

Arthur began to nod, muttering, "Yes... Cameron told me most of that himself."

Daffyd straightened his face, folding the piece of paper in his hand back up. "And?" He asked expectantly. "Did you come up with a plan?"

He paused to think, before answering. "Not so much me, but a few friends..." Another pause; Arthur let a slight frown cross his lips. "..._I suppose_... Of mine offered to help." His eyes panned between each of the other three. "One of them came up with an idea of creating a student council, which could be used to gain the trust of other students."

"Hmn..." Eoghan grumbled, looking particularly pensive. "So that would be providing you'd be elected as the president, then."

He didn't sound convinced by the idea, which bothered Arthur. "Well, I suppose so. He put the idea forward to the Principal, who said he would have China organise it."

Slowly, yet as if he was reluctant (which was probably the case), Eoghan nodded. "It's not a bad idea. Just risky. Chances are it'd be done democratically and other students'd vote. And if you don't get in, well, then you'd have done it all for nothing."

"Actually, that was my doubt exactly." Arthur said.

"Who came up with this idea, by the way?" Daffyd asked.

"A prat who clearly didn't think there would be much of a problem with it. Alfred Jones."

The Welsh student didn't look too pleased at finding that out.

"Ah. Well..." Eoghan spoke up again, still looking deep in thought. "For now, let's go with it. If it does happen, then it's a bridge we can cross when we come to it. If not, then we'll think of something else."

"So the four of us are in the know, and so's Alfred." Daffyd said, turning to Arthur again. "You said there were others?"

Arthur gave a nod. "Eduard, Lukas and Aurel offered their help, as well. But as far as I know, that's everyone."

"That's eight of us..." Eoghan sounded dubious again. "...Eight's not going to be enough."

"At the same time, we can't go around telling everyone the plan." Daffyd said.

Nodding, Eoghan replied, "Exactly. Tha's why I think we should go with the idea as it is now."

Arthur thought it was strange for them to be making decisions on what they should or shouldn't do. He knew why they were doing it, but it was still strange to him, all the same. He cleared his throat. "If I may..." He said, gaining the attention of the other three again. "...For now, I do think the plan we have is sufficient." He glanced towards Eoghan. "I agree with you; whereas I don't believe Alfred's idea to be without fault, it is, at the very least, an idea all the same."

Eoghan folded his arms, letting out a low mumble again. Sean stared at the ceiling for a few moments, as if he were bored. A while seemed to pass before anyone spoke up again.

"Then all of us need to run... " Daffyd's voice cut through the silence, suddenly. "At least then one of us would probably be elected."

"Sounds like the obvious solution, but I don't think it'll work. There'd be a point where all of us running'd come off as suspicious." Eoghan replied. "I think we need some kind of resistance faction. A secret, invite-only club where we're able to work towards our goal. Realistically, there's only so much the four – or eight – of us can do on our own."

A resistance faction hadn't been the first thing that had come to Arthur's mind, but now, it seemed like it should well have been. Then again, he'd never been too sure of exactly how to approach the task in general, until now.

"What say you, Arthur?" Eoghan glanced over at him.

He gave a slow nod in response. "I suppose if you think it would work, it's worth doing."

"Then it's settled." Eoghan said, with a slight grin starting to form on his face. "The four of us are now a resistance faction." He kicked back on the bed. "We'll meet here at six on Wednesday evenings. Any questions, 'fore I call this meeting to a close?"

"Yeah, I have one." Daffyd frowned. "I take it you're the self-proclaimed leader of this 'faction', are you?"

He shrugged. "I'm the oldest, Cameron left me in charge, and besides, it was my idea. So, for now, yeah, I am."

Daffyd, looking displeased, rose out of his seat. "Glad we're all in agreement." He said, rather sarcastically. "See you tomorrow."

He walked towards the door. Arthur got up and did the same, giving an acknowledging nod towards the two Irish students on his way there.

Eoghan grinned again. "G'night, lads."

Daffyd's dorm room was only a few doors down from the one they'd been in, which apparently belonged to Eoghan and Sean. He gave Arthur a brief goodnight as well, before disappearing inside.

It was too early to sleep, and there were several thoughts milling around Arthur's brain that would have prevented him from even trying to, anyway. He entered the dorm to find Francis already in the room, oddly enough, working away at what was probably homework.

"Good evening, _Angleterre_." The Frenchman droned half-heartedly, not looking up from the textbook in his hand.

Arthur shut the door behind him and went to take out some of his own homework to finish. India had given him plenty of calculus work to be getting on with. "Evening." He muttered.

"How did you like football, today?" Francis asked. His question didn't sound particularly spiteful, but Arthur figured he meant it to be, all the same.

"Well, how do you think I liked it?" He grumbled back, whilst ducking under his bed for his books.

"I do not know. That is why I am asking you."

Arthur pulled out what he needed and sat down on his bed. "I'm not in the mood to listen to any of your sodding criticism tonight, frog." Not that he ever was, but at that time especially, he really didn't have the patience for it. Nor did he appreciate the fact that Francis had brought the football session back to his mind, whereas during the meeting in the other dorm, it had disappeared; all the feelings of failure and inferiority had come flooding back along with the reminder.

"Criticism?" Francis paused for a moment, glancing up over his textbook. "_Angleterre_, you have not even been here a fortnight. On the contrary, I find it quite brave of you." He looked back down at the book, sounding bored as he turned the page. "_Oui_, stupid, but brave."

Arthur was now confused. He was still disgruntled as well, though, and not exactly trusting of Francis's words... Had Francis just praised him, somehow – albeit in what sounded like somewhat of a patronising manner? He found that rather hard to believe. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, usually people do not join until they are at least as fast on their feet as the current members." The Frenchman replied, his attention mostly still on reading. "Which you are not. Which is why I am giving you credit for trying."

Frowning, Arthur sunk into his shoulders, grumbling. He really didn't want Francis's condescending 'approval'. "It was Alfred's idea... I only agreed to come this week, anyway. I shan't be going back."

Francis yawned a bit. "_Oui_, Sourcils. If you say so."

* * *

Aurel was on Konstantin's mind for most of the following day. When he'd returned to their dorm on Wednesday night, Aurel was tucked up back in his own bed, facing the wall. Assuming he was asleep, Konstantin hadn't tried to rouse him for attention; he'd just gotten into his own bed without saying a word and fallen asleep himself. When he had woken on Thursday morning, Aurel was gone.

He didn't know why Aurel had been angry at him, really. Was it something to do with Svetlana? Or was it something to do with what he'd wanted to show him? Perhaps it had been both. The matter of what he'd wanted to show him was still another prevalent question on his mind... He was used to Aurel overreacting, but he wasn't used to him not letting it slide by the next morning, at least. So, what exactly had been the problem? He wished he knew; he wished Aurel was around so he could ask him.

Konstantin was thinking so deeply about the matter in Poetry class that he'd started to stare out of the window in a daze, shutting out anything else. It wasn't until the rest of the room went silent and a heavy _slam _resounded on his desk that he jolted back into the real world again.

The masked and stubbled face of the Poetry teacher was looming over him. Konstantin stared at the heavy book that had been smacked down on the desk in front of him first, then upwards towards the man, with a frown.

Turkey was probably Konstantin's least favourite teacher. His dislike wasn't really to do with ethnic tensions of any variety, but more the way he acted towards the class members themselves. Though he necessarily a bad teacher, he was at times unfair... Or, so Konstantin thought, anyway. There were a few others who agreed with him, though. Because of his tendency to call any student on his blacklist a brat (subjectively), the teacher himself had gained the nickname 'old man', despite the fact he was only (probably) middle aged. He was a tall, tanned man, with short dark hair, whom almost always wore a green hooded jacket and a white mask on the top half of his face.

"Good of ya to join us again, Essay-less Brat." True to his nature, he'd been using that name to refer to Konstantin since Monday, despite the fact he'd allowed him more time to finish the essay. The part of his face that was visible was grinning. "I take it since yer not payin' attention, ya already know all the verses of _Carmen Campidoctoris_ off by heart?"

"...No?" Konstantin shrunk a bit, frowning. He could feel every eye in the room peering over at him, which wasn't comfortable in the slightest.

"Yeah, I didn't think so, kid." Turkey lifted the book off Konstantin's desk, looking smug. "Page 86." He then declared to the rest of the class, walking down the row of desks. "Answer the questi-" At that moment, he spotted Heracles, a few seats down from Konstantin, fast asleep, as usual. Promptly, he slammed the book down once more on the surface the Greek delegate was resting his head on, starting him awake, much like he had done with Konstantin. "Geeze, aren't any of you little assholes payin' attention!?" He snarled.

Heracles seemed to mumble over the then quietness of the room something about the old man being too loud, which seemed to just irk Turkey more.

"You wanna keep talkin', Mama's Boy?" Other nicknames Turkey had for Heracles were a good mixture, including colourful ones such as 'Jerkcules' and 'Bratcrates'. In fact, he was really the only student he'd never actually called by his delegate name (Konstantin thought that this one might have been down to ethnic tensions, but with such a diverse collection of people at the Academy, those kind of things didn't usually go down well there).

"No..." Heracles yawned, sounding irritated. "I want to keep sleeping."

Konstantin was glad for the lesson to be over, as he usually was, after Poetry. Not having to hear about Prince Rodrigo's epics and having to decode Latin into English for at least another twenty-four hours was a welcome relief, as was not having to hear Heracles and Turkey argue with each other like old women. That being the last period, he was glad for all of the day's lessons to be out of the way, too. Konstantin planned to go back to his dorm and wait for Aurel to reappear; perhaps he'd finally be able to finish the reason he'd been dubbed 'Essay-less Brat', in the time it took.

Of course, things that Konstantin planned for didn't always happen as they were supposed to.

He followed the flow of the other students out of the classroom, and was about to walk along with them down the hallway when he was stopped by a light tapping on his shoulder.

"Hello, Kosta."

The voice was plain, collected and blunt. Aware of the owner, he paused for a moment before glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, there stood the Czech delegate, Adéla Kríž (1). She had her free hand on her hip, a thin smile across her face. Konstantin cocked an eyebrow; she wasn't in his Poetry class. He'd just walked straight past her without noticing she was there, too, somehow... But really, he was wondering what she was doing there greeting him, at all.

"Hey." He replied slowly, and unenthusiastically. She didn't normally talk to him, so he figured there was probably something she wanted. "What is it?"

She folded her arms. "Have you heard? Mongolia's going to be quitting the Archery teacher's job."

That came as a surprise to him, on all accounts. "Eh... No, I didn't know that." He said, quite confused. "How do you know? Did he tell you?" He furrowed his brow a little. Adéla was in the afternoon class for Archery, which meant she would have had it just then, at the same time Konstantin had Poetry. Had Mongolia announced something then, and not said the same thing to the morning set? Or had the decision just been made over the course of that day?

The smile on her face began to spread. "No, actually. Vavrinec overheard him talking to Germania a few days back."

This only served to make Konstantin even more confused, and that was without him wondering why that lumbering Slovak of hers was eavesdropping on a conversation between teachers. "So, you're telling me this now... Why?" He spoke even slower than before, as if Adéla was having trouble comprehending his English.

"I thought you might like to know." She answered plainly, leaving him unsure of whether she was avoiding his actual point or just hadn't understood it. "After all, _someone's_ going to have to replace him."

He wasn't sure he liked the way she had stressed 'someone'; to him, it had sounded rather sardonic. "Meaning?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched her walk towards the large hallway windows, her arms crossed around her middle.

"Well, what do you think it means?" She tossed her head back towards him, matching his wry expression all of a sudden.

Though he could sort of see what she was trying to say, it didn't make him any less confused. "You think I want the job, or something?"

She rolled her eyes a bit. "Hmn... I suppose you could say that. Though, it's really not about what _you _want." She met his gaze again, and the thin smile returned to her face. "What I mean is, I think people are going to _expect_ you to take the job, whether you want it or not."

Konstantin said nothing, averting his eyes away from Adéla to stare out of the window and think it over. Would taking the job, should the offer be handed to him, have made things any easier for him?He'd avoid having to cross over, but then what? The program was beginning to close; the time would come when there'd be no students left to teach, as they'd have crossed over, or be forced into the town. And the town was where teachers who had quit, for one reason or another, were sent. That was the overall psychology of the program itself – was crossing over really as bad as being isolated on Pangaea forever more?

"You er..." He peered back over at her, with both caution and suspicion, unable to shake off the feeling there was something Adéla ultimately wanted from him, following this conversation. "You didn't really answer my question, though. Why are you telling me this? What's it to you if I want the job or not?"

"What's it to me?" She repeated, snorting lightly. "I'm really just giving you a heads up. Although..." She pivoted away from the window to face him fully. "If you _didn't _want the job, then I could help you out."

His suspicions were practically confirmed. "You want it, I take it?" He shrugged. "Well, you're in luck, I don't."

Shaking her head, she laughed a little, before telling him, "It doesn't work like that. You and I are in separate classes, we've never been compared in skill level other than on paper." She lowered her tone of voice, adding with bitterness, "The likelihood is, if you don't take it, Yong Soo will be the next in line for it."

She had a point there – though Konstantin was considered top of his class, Yong Soo wasn't too far behind. Part of him knew the young Korean was actually pretty eager for Konstantin to leave the Academy any time soon, whether it be by crossing over or otherwise, so he could proudly declare himself top of the class.

"Then?" He pressed, not sure he liked the idea of Yong Soo teaching the class, actually.

"The solution's easy enough." She replied, her lips twitching into another half-smile. "If you and I were to duel, we'd be compared in skill level. If you threw the match, it'd obviously seem like I was a better archer than you, wouldn't it? That way, I'd be offered the job instead. How does that sound?"

To be perfectly honest, he didn't know how that sounded, at first. When he took a moment to think about it fully, he thought it sounded too easy to work... And... It also sounded kind of insulting, too. Did she figure he'd be perfectly happy and nonchalant about throwing a match or a duel or whatever it was she wanted against her? The thought brought a heavy frown to his face. Hadn't she seen how determined he'd been to win against Jovan at tennis? Did she really think he'd be fine with throwing away something he was actually considered the best in the Academy at?

He looked her in the eyes again. "You're kidding, right?"

Her expression faltered, her smile smoothing out into a hard line. "Not at all."

To what seemed to be her surprise, as well as his own, he laughed, then. It was a low, quiet and sour laugh that made his shoulders shake. He brought his hand to his forehead; he didn't even know why he was laughing... Perhaps he was just so irritated with that woman stood in front of him that he couldn't even make an angry response. It wasn't even a laughing matter, but somehow, he'd found it hilarious.

"You can't seriously want me to do that!" He chortled, his voice cold otherwise.

Given the harsh look on her face, she didn't appreciate his sudden state of amusement, whether it was acrimonious or not. "And what if I do, _Kosta_?" She asked, her eyes alight with irritation and her tone of voice lowering to match that exactly.

"You want to belittle me for your own gain?" He near exhaled, sounding as if he were unable to comprehend the stupidity of her proposal – which was, in many ways, the truth. "What's it to me if you don't get the job? Yong Soo might be a self-centred idiot, but at least he wouldnt've ever pulled something like _that _to get what he wanted."

Adéla's thin, dark eyes narrowed to slits. "You want to preserve your own pride and leave that idiot in charge of the class, then?"

He raked one of his hands backwards through his hair, calming down after his short outburst of laughter. "If he's better at it than you, then he's better suited to teach it." He said nothing more about his own pride being left in-tact, although that was a considerable part of the matter as well.

She looked as if she were about to sneer something in response, but her lips parted for a moment and no words came out. Then, oddly enough, she composed herself, standing up straight and neutralising her demeanour. "I... Suppose you have a point, there." She said, after clearing her throat, her words plain, if not still a little scathing. "If you're not willing to help me, then there's nothing _I _can do, is there?" She pressed her lips outwards into a forced smile.

Like before, he was uncomfortable with the way she'd put emphasis on the 'I', there. If she was trying to hint at something else by saying it, again, he hadn't understood her. But before he knew it, and before he could even think twice about asking her anything else (if she was trying to get on his bad side, she'd actually amazingly managed to do it without much effort; he really didn't want to talk to her any more, anyway), she had sauntered past him.

"Well, see you later."

Frowning further, he turned his head to watch her walk down the hallway and the staircase at the end, as he sighed heavily through his nose. Given the abruptness there, he couldn't help but feel that wasn't going to be the last he'd hear from her.

* * *

Searching the Academy campus for Aurel at least took Konstantin's mind off the strange (and frankly offensive) proposition Adéla had put forward... For the time being, at least.

Krešimir Horvat, the Croatian delegate, was the first student he went to ask, after spotting him and a few others practising down at the track. Krešimir was Jovan's room mate, and though Konstantin didn't know much about the Croat himself, he knew the two of them didn't get along too well. All the same, he was perfectly comfortable approaching him and asking if he'd seen Aurel around.

"Aurel? Yeah, I saw him heading out this way just as I went to get changed." Krešimir replied to the question, as he sat at the very edge of the track in his gym kit, stretching one of his legs. "I wasn't really paying attention though."

"I think I know where he is." Konstantin answered after pausing in thought, then shaking his head a bit. With that piece of information in mind, it seemed blindingly obvious where Aurel had gone. "Thanks."

"No problem." The Croat switched legs. "Hey, I haven't seen you down here all week. You given track up?"

With Jovan about to cross over, Konstantin found the idea of training as intensely as he had been for so long now rather pointless; he didn't admit this aloud, though. Instead, he simply offered the other senior student a shrug and a vaguely sheepish smile.

"I've had a lot on my mind recently."

Krešimir's eyebrows raised, as if something had suddenly clicked in his mind, and he nodded. "Ah, that's fair enough. Well!" He let go of his ankle and sprung up to his feet, dusting his hands free of the chalky substance lacing the perimeter of the track. "I'd go with you to find Aurel, but I'm busy right now, as you can probably see." He glanced over at the other students further afield briefly. "Let's play tennis sometime, okay?"

"Sure." Was Konstantin's default reaction. He said a brief goodbye to Krešimir, who then jogged his way towards the track's starting line, before he made his own way back up the hill towards the library. The library was the first place that came to Konstantin's mind when Krešimir had said Aurel was around that end of the school grounds; it was usually one of his more common post-class hangouts (out of the places he knew of, anyway).

However, when he first stepped inside the library, he found it practically deserted. Even Iryna Chernenko, an ex-student who now served as the librarian, was away from her post, leaving the front desk empty. Konstantin rarely frequented the library himself, it was usually Aurel who dragged him there. And what Aurel did separately from Konstantin in there, he was never quite sure of. Therefore, he really wasn't completely sure which part of the vast southern building to begin his search in.

The sheer scale of the library itself never ceased to amaze him. Every time he returned to the building, the bookcases seemed to have gotten taller, the ornate pillars seemed to have become higher, the balcony areas seemed to have risen... For a school that often accommodated merely something in the range of 200 people at a time, teachers and students combined, he'd always thought it rather pointless to have had a library filled with hundreds of rows and thousands upon thousands of books. But that was true to the Academy's style; the classrooms, and all of the buildings themselves, had all seemed to be built on a larger scale than they should have been. Many of the rooms on higher levels of the class buildings were never in use, and there were so many empty dorm rooms that it made him often wonder why the students weren't given one each. It was almost like the Academy had been built for five or six times the amount of students actually there...

...Which he often found was a harrowing thought. Konstantin tried to shake the idea out of his head and keep his focus on finding Aurel. Any reminders of how vast and empty the library was, be it the sound of his feet tapping against the carpet, or near perfect stillness surrounding him, or the faint ticking of the grand clock above the doors at the entrance, were unwelcome, to say the least.

After a couple of minutes walking up and down the first three rows of books, rather idly, his ears pricked at the quiet muttering of two voices in the next row along, walking nearer to where he stood. He paused, trying his best to tune in on them, part of him hoping one of them might have been Aurel. Though he found that wasn't the case, upon listening further and letting them get closer, he did find he recognised both of them. Sneaking to the end of the row he was currently in, he peered around the end, spying on the owners.

Sure enough, Francis and Antonio were there, with their backs to Konstantin, their focus on the inside of the entirely vacant computer suite.

"_Ay_." Antonio sighed, sounding uncharacteristically dejected. "Eduardo is not here, Fran."

"_Oui_. He is not _here_, but that does not mean he is not in the library." Francis, too, sounded more serious than Konstantin was used to. The French student walked to the threshold between the computer suite and the library, appearing to take a good look inside.

Antonio moved closer as well, and when Francis turned his head to look at his companion, Konstantin flinched further back around the bookcase.

"Perhaps we should wait here, _non_?" Francis suggested. "Eduard will most certainly come back here at some point."

"Ah, you stay here then. I'm going to go look around, _si_?" Replied Antonio.

"Suit yourself."

The last thing Konstantin saw before he shifted himself as quickly as possible back out of view was Francis walking on into the computer suite to take a seat. When he heard Antonio's footsteps drawing towards him, all of a sudden, he inwardly panicked slightly, turning towards the bookcase and trying to act casual, pretending he was browsing through the books there. What were Francis and Antonio doing looking for Eduard? Was it something to do with what Gilbert had done?

Antonio had almost strolled right past the row when he came to a halt, glancing over in his direction and blinking in surprise. "Konstanito!" He said brightly, grinning.

Inwardly wincing, Konstantin looked back at Antonio, forcing a smile onto his face. "Eh, you know... Just Kosta is fine." He'd told Antonio that several times, but it had never seemed to sink in. Not that the name he'd called him was really the issue there.

"What brings you to the library, _amigo_? I never took you for the reading type."

Konstantin hesitated a moment, before deciding that answering honestly wasn't going to do him any harm. "I was looking for Aurel. And then... Er... This book caught my eye." With very little effort, he placed his hand on a book at random, his gaze moving towards it. He took a moment then to read the title on the thick binder: _A History of Trigonometry and Algebra, Volume XVI_... He couldn't help but mentally scold himself; if it had been anyone but Antonio stood there questioning him, they wouldn't have bought such a poor lie.

Antonio did actually come closer to look at the book, before crinkling his nose and shaking his head, laughing lightly. "_Ay_, I'll never understand how people find that stuff interesting, Konstanito." He drew back and looked at him again. "But I'm looking for someone in here too. Maybe we can look together, _si_?"

Awkwardly, Konstantin rubbed at the back of his neck. "Eh... Sure." He replied, not sounding too enthusiastic about it. Luckily, Antonio didn't seem to notice. "Who're you looking for?" He added quickly, before there was any chance for the idea that he might've been listening in on him and Francis could come to the Spanish student's mind.

The smile on Antonio's tanned face gently turned into what almost looked like a pensive frown. "Eduard von Bock. You know of him, _si_? He's the boy who's always in here." He idly ruffled his hand through the messy locks of dark hair on his head. "_Ay_, Gil won't come apologise to him for what he did. So Fran and I came to do it instead."

So that was why they were there? They'd come to say sorry to Eduard on Gilbert's behalf? Somehow, Konstantin had trouble believing that; the three of them were such notorious troublemakers when together, why would Francis and Antonio want to do something like that?

"Fran's waiting in the suite in case he comes back there." Antonio went on to say. "But two heads are better than one, _si_? Especially in a big place like this." He pasted another broad beam onto his countenance.

Konstantin lowered his hand. "In that case, we should split up anyway."

"That sounds good!" Antonio nodded. "I can take the balcony areas if you want."

Agreeing to that, Konstantin parted with Antonio and continued on his way through the rows, whilst the Spanish student made his way to the staircases and up to the higher levels. With two faces to look for now, rather than just the one, Konstantin kept his eyes peeled all the while, occasionally taking a brief glance up at Antonio searching around above, whenever he came into view.

However, despite the many, many rows of bookcases on the ground level, Aurel seemed to be hiding away in none of them. All of the seating areas were desolate, and he only came across three other students milling around on their own accord on his search, none of whom being either of those he was looking for.

He'd eventually resigned himself to a seat on one of the furthest rows with a sigh, feeling as if he'd been looking for hours on end. But, as the thought of just giving up and deducing that Aurel wasn't in the library at all crossed his mind, his attention was caught for a moment, when _someone_ sat down in the chair next to his.

"Overprotective, much?"

Konstantin nearly jumped out of his seat. His eyes quickly panned over to the other. There, looking rather unimpressed as he crossed his legs up on his own seat, practically perching on the very edge of it, was Aurel.

"_Really_." He continued, not making eye contact and sounding annoyed. "The way you act, people would think I'd been kidnapped."

Exhaling through his nose, out of a slight feeling of frustration, as well as out of relief, and out of weariness, Konstantin shook his head and stared down towards the carpet. "Sorry." He mumbled. Being told that his actions were 'overprotective', as Aurel had put it, did make him feel rather guilty.

"I was helping Iryna in the back room, if you must know. The poor woman had a lot of books to sort through, it's amazing her back hasn't snapped already given the weight of her..." Aurel trailed off and coughed, fixing his hat for a moment. "Ah, and by the way, Eduard's not here, either. He left a while ago."

Konstantin glanced up again. He didn't even have to ask to know Aurel had been listening in earlier and had then been sneaking around ever since, remaining unnoticed. That was frustrating, in itself, but Aurel had probably found it entertaining. "Then Antonio and Francis need to know." He half-sighed.

Aurel nodded, unfolded his legs and then slid out of his seat. "I'll go find Antonio. I'll meet you back in the computer suite."

When he rose from his own seat, a good few moments later, Konstantin felt quite sluggish. Stretching his arms with a light groan, he lumbered back off in the same direction Aurel had gone, taking a turn and heading down the middle of the rows to the computer suite. Stopping in the doorway, he found that Francis wasn't sat waiting for Eduard or Antonio or anyone, but rather, was snooping around, looking under one of the computer benches and rubbing at his light stubble in thought.

"Hey... Francis...?" He said, quietly, so as not to startle the other student.

The Frenchman rose to his full height and peered over at him, his mouth in a thin line. "Ah. _Bonsoir, _Kosta."

Konstantin couldn't help but wonder what Francis had been doing; he didn't ask, though. "Er. Eduard's not here... Aurel's gone to tell Antonio."

Francis's eyes widened slightly. "Ah." He stepped back over to one of the computer chairs and sat back down in it. "You wouldn't perhaps happen to know where he _is_, then, would you?"

Out of habit, Konstantin nodded, bluntly answering, "No."

"Hmph. Well, no matter." Francis flicked his hair a bit, leaning onto the edge of the computer bench with his elbow. "Toni and I will wait."

The way Francis spoke, Konstantin was even less convinced than before that they were there to apologise on Gilbert's behalf. Antonio didn't sound like he'd been lying, though... Perhaps Francis was just feeling bitter about it all? He supposed he could understand why; one of his closest friends had been detained because of it, although no blame seemed to rest on Eduard's shoulders, either. What was actually going on, Konstantin didn't know... Nor did he really want to find out, were he perfectly honest with himself.

When Aurel and Antonio returned soon after to the computer suite, they all said their goodbyes and before long, Konstantin and Aurel were walking back out of the library together, leaving the other two and all matters concerning the search for Eduard behind them.

"You're not... Angry with me, are you?" Konstantin couldn't help but ask with caution, as they ventured back into the cooling late afternoon air.

"Right now?" Aurel asked, after shutting the library doors behind them. "Right now, no. I don't deny that I wasn't before, however."

Konstantin shrugged a little. "Is it about last night?"

They began to pace onwards, past the class buildings and around to the quad.

A scowl formed on Aurel's brow. "I... Well, in a way." He replied, adding quickly, "But I'm over that! I was just annoyed that you came searching for me."

Konstantin couldn't help but roll his eyes. "And I was annoyed last night that you overreacted and wouldn't talk to me about it afterwards. Let's just... Put it behind us, okay?"

"Hmn. Fair enough." Aurel replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets before promptly changing the subject. "So, then, what are you doing tonight?"

"Eh. Homework." Konstantin answered half-heartedly, remembering his overdue Poetry essay all of a sudden. "But, y'know..." He said, bringing something else to mind quickly. "If you wanted to show me that, er... Thing you were going to show me yesterday, instead..." He peered over at Aurel, who met his gaze.

Somewhat of a meek smile graced Aurel's lips, and he looked away again. "Oh. Well. I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little while longer for that!" He said, quite dryly. "The moon and stars were in a perfect position last night, and unfortunately they shan't be again tonight."

Konstantin snorted. So it was some kind of a magic trick then, after all? "'The moon and stars'? Really?"

"_Yes_, Kosta. The moon and stars." Aurel answered sharply, though his smile twitched further upwards. "But when they are back in a good position, I will be sure to let you know."

Shaking his head a bit, mostly at how ludicrous it all sounded to him (even though he had a feeling it was all perfectly normal talk to Aurel), Konstantin said plainly, "Alright then."

Aurel kept the smile on his face the entire time they spent walking back to their dorm.

After opening the door, the younger student walked straight into the room, though for a moment he paused, turning his head back to look down at the doorway. Konstantin, about to do the same, stopped, and looked downwards as well.

"Hmn, who's sending us notes, I wonder?" Aurel asked with curiosity, dumping his bag on his bed.

Sure enough, on the floor in front of Konstantin, was a white envelope that had clearly been slipped under their door at some point during the day. He picked it up and turned it over, finding his name handwritten on the plain side. That was strange... Who on Earth was sending letters or notes or... Whatever was in there to him?

"It's for me." He told Aurel, closing the door and proceeding to sit down on his bed. Putting his bag on the floor next to his feet, he turned the envelope back over in his hand, slipping his thumb under the looser edge of the seal.

Aurel watched him carefully, clearly very interested. "Oh? A note from a secret admirer, perhaps?"

"Yeah, _right_." Konstantin answered in a sarcastic tone, moving his thumb along and opening it. He then took out the two small slips of paper inside. They both appeared blank at first, but when he turned them over, he found one had writing on, in the same black pen and handwriting as the envelope. He read in a mutter:

_Konstantin,_

_You must accept Adéla's challenge and throw the match as she wishes._

_Do not inform anyone of this._

_Adhering to these terms ensures the return of the contents of the picture enclosed._

_Failure to do so will lead to dire consequences._

_Blackmail_. So he'd received blackmail for refusing to play along with Adéla? His jaw went lax... Who the hell had sent that? Was it Adéla herself? Or Vavrinec? Just what did they think they were doing!?

"What the _fuck_...!?" He hissed, moving the written note out of the way to reveal the picture beneath it.

And there was the leverage in all its glory – a colour print photograph of a cheap, plastic gold pendant with a red gem stuck on the front. Svetlana's missing necklace.

* * *

Notes:

(1) – Couple of issues I've been having with Adéla's surname over the last couple of chapters. It should all be fixed now; the correct Czech spelling, with the correct characters, is Kríž. I've previously spelt it Kris by accident, and then not correctly used the characters, etc.

Asides from that, I think that's all for this chapter, apart from the fact that I need to definitely update more often, haha.

Thanks guys!

_-Lusky._


	16. XVI

A/N:

**-Tanglepelt: **Thanks! I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

_**XVI.**_

The first day of December fell on that Saturday. It was never as bitterly cold as it would have been back in England at that time of the year, but still, Arthur could tell that when the sun wasn't shining down on the Academy, there was a distinct coolness to the air, especially when night time came.

On the following Monday, assembly was held at nine in the morning. Arthur hadn't spoken about the student council idea with anyone since the week before, not even with Alfred. Nor had he seen much of Aurel, or Lukas, or of Eoghan, Daffyd or Sean. So when China made the announcement during assembly, it came as a surprise to him; he'd almost managed to forget completely about it.

"The staff believe that with what is going on, a student council would be able to aid in supporting-" China continued, however, his initial declaration had caused several of the students to begin to mutter amongst themselves, over his speech. He frowned and slammed on the podium in front of him with the heel of his palm. "THIS IMPORTANT!" He yelled. "YOU WANT STUDENT COUNCIL, YOU PAY ATTENTION!"

Most of the auditorium went quiet, however, Arthur could still hear Alfred making quiet, but excited mutters to his right.

China cleared his throat, and went on, his eyes panning across the students seated before him. "There going to be two council members for every grade; one male, one female. Elections will be every three months. So we no have to do it every time someone goes up a year, you must be more than three months away from next birthday or crossing over to run. If you want to run, you come talk to me by Friday. Candidates will be announced at next assembly, and elections will be in January after Winter break."

"Pssssst, Artie!" Alfred leaned in towards Arthur as China left the stand, whispering. "When's your birthday?"

A little annoyed that Alfred wasn't patient enough to have waited until after assembly was over to ask that, especially now that Rome was approaching centre-stage (in full armour, as usual) to continue the assembly and Arthur actually did want to listen to what he had to say, he hissed back, "_April_."

"April? That's tons of time!"

"First and foremost, I'd like to thank you all for staying calm over the past two months, particularly during my absence." Rome began, and Arthur jabbed the sharp edge of his elbow into Alfred's arm to shut him up. "The field team has concluded all trace of the rogues has been eradicated from Pangaea."

The muttering between students began again, and Arthur distinctly caught someone nearby grumbling, "That's what they said last time..." Somehow, despite him not being present there the last time, Arthur mentally agreed with that student.

The Principal didn't try to quell the muttering, he only added, "Any concerns can be directed towards the Vice Principal." He stared across the students, with a very serious frown on his face, much as China had done before, before cracking a grin all of a sudden and brightly saying, "Have a good week, _Liberi_!"

The way Alfred acted for the rest of the day, Arthur rather likened to how a young puppy would get excited over going for a walk in the park, or a new toy. The American was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, hardly talking about anything else. It was almost like the concept of a student council was completely new to him, and not his idea in the slightest. By the end of break time, Arthur was already close to exasperation. He half-snapped at him, saying that he would be sure to go with him to see China after class was over that day.

Arthur realised, after he'd walked back to the foyer after Music class was over, that it was actually a good job Alfred had wanted to go too, as he'd no idea where to find China. But when he'd entered the front building, the first student he spotted in the foyer wasn't Alfred, who didn't seem to be there yet, but Elise. She was on the far side, near the front doors, talking to someone Arthur recognised, upon further inspection, was Tino. Arthur wandered in their direction, but thought twice about approaching them; though he was curious as to what their conversation was about, he didn't want to interrupt them, either. The Finnish student had been discharged from the infirmary a few days before, but Arthur had yet to see him since then. The closer he got, the more clear his injuries became – the lower part of his left cheek, and his jaw and lip, were still bruised in blotches of red and purple beneath the neatly place bandages. Arthur winced inwardly, recalling Lukas mentioning to Emil in the common room some time over the past week that Gilbert hadn't gone for any other part of Tino's body during their fight – just his face.

Elise spotted him in the corner of her eye, just as he started looking around awkwardly, unsure of whether to actually approach them or not.

"Oh, hey Arthur!" She said, brightly. "Are you looking for someone?"

He met her gaze. "Er, yes. Alfred, actually."

She glanced around, herself. "I don't think he's here. You can wait with us." She smiled. "I was just telling Tino what he missed in Shooting last week."

He took her up on that offer, standing with them as they continued their conversation. He was only half-listening, though. When his ears weren't tuned in on what Elise was telling Tino about the depths of bullet holes (which she spoke of very nonchalantly, as if gunshots were a perfectly normal occurrence), he was keeping an eye on the rest of the foyer, for when Alfred decided to show up. And when he wasn't looking around for Alfred, he'd glance back at Tino – trying, of course, not to do the outright rude thing and stare at him or his injuries. But, really, it wasn't his injuries that had his attention... Rather, it was where Tino's own gaze seemed to be travelling to – outside of the front steps, where Berwald still stood guard.

It took a while for Elise to catch on to this, though. "Oh! I'm sorry, Tino." She said suddenly, with a great deal of sympathy in her voice. "I'm keeping you, aren't I?"

"Eheh... Not at all, Elise. There's still an hour before Berwald's shift's over." Tino replied. "But thanks for filling me in."

Shortly after, Tino left through the front doors and, again, sat himself down on the bottom step outside. His focus jumping between the Finnish student and Elise to his right, Arthur couldn't help but feel that this was a bit of a déja-vu.

And then he remembered that oddly pleasant sinking feeling inside his chest that he'd gotten from speaking with Elise at those very doors the week before, and he avoided making eye contact with her, trying to prevent it from happening again.

In fact, it wasn't until Alfred nearly jumped on his back that Arthur realised that the two of them had both been staring outside in utter silence.

"_Urk_!" He yelped, nearly tumbling forward and straight into the doors from the sudden weight. He could see Elise jolting in surprise in the corner of his eye.

"Artie!" Alfred exclaimed. "C'mon, let's go!"

"Ack- Get off my back, first!"

Alfred jumped down, and Arthur shot a frown at him over his shoulder, rubbing at the now aching small of his back.

"Pfft, geeze, _sorry_." Alfred rolled his eyes, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Didn't realise you were such an old man."

Elise laughed lightly at them, interjecting, before Arthur could make any complaint about being called an old man, "What are you two up to?"

Arthur didn't even have time to answer her before he was cut off again by Alfred replying jauntily, "We're gonna go see China. Artie here's gonna run for the student council!" He grinned, leaning his forearm (and most of his weight, again) onto Arthur's shoulder.

To his surprise, Elise's reaction then prevented him from again making a blunt complaint about Alfred's behaviour. She looked thoroughly confused for a good few moments, and then, her eyes widened as if she'd come to a drastic realisation... And, indeed, that was more than likely the case.

"Arthur..." Her tone went remarkably quiet, all of the cheerfullness that had previously been present in it disappearing at once. "...You're _not_..."

The sinking feeling in Arthur's chest when he looked straight into her eyes, sure enough, did return... But, this time, it wasn't a pleasant sensation. He could tell she'd deduced, merely from what Alfred had just said, exactly the reason why Arthur was going to be running for the student council.

_'I don't want to see you or anyone else get hurt, you know.'_

She had asked him to promise he wouldn't try to do what Gregory had attempted previously, that day – that day that Berwald had returned to the Academy and Cameron had left. He'd told her he couldn't make her that promise.

"Huh? Not what?" Alfred lifted his arm off Arthur's shoulder and let it drop by his side, standing up straight and staring across at Elise. "What's wrong with Artie wanting to run?"

Elise frowned, and Arthur, somehow, felt a deep pang of guilt, all of a sudden. "There's nothing wrong with _that_. It's what he'd be using the position to do..." She folded her arms. "Arthur... You've only been here two weeks. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're trying to do."

Well, she'd got him there... Arthur straightened up as well, coughing awkwardly. "I..." He began, before letting out a strained sigh. "Look, Elise, this isn't really the time or place to talk about this..."

"No. No, it's not." She answered, shaking her head. "And I don't exactly _want_ to talk about it, either." She looked at Alfred for a moment, then straight back towards Arthur. "Please... _Don't_."

"Don't!?" Alfred repeated, his nose crinkling up. "Don't _what, _Elise!? I don't think this is any of your business, y'know!"

"'None of my business'!?" Elise snapped, her voice suddenly going very cold. "Coming from a kid who sticks his nose in everything!? Alfred, if you and Arthur are doing what I think you're doing, you're getting yourselves into a lot of danger!"

Arthur could feel the foyer growing silent, and the other pairs of eyes that were in the room suddenly all falling on the argument in front of him. He groaned a little under his breath, bringing a hand up towards his forehead and rubbing at it.

"Danger, _smanger_!" Alfred retorted. "It's a hell of a lot more dangerous-"

"Alright, alright, that's enough!" Arthur declared, glancing between the two of them. "As I said before, this is neither the time, nor the place."

Elise drew in a breath through her nose, apparently silently agreeing with him. She softened her expression, and then gave a sigh. "Please... Just, _please_..." She said, looking towards Arthur again. There was sadness in her eyes. "Don't get into trouble."

With that, she took a step past him, and then crossed the foyer towards the quad. Craning his head over his shoulder, Arthur watched her leave... Part of him wanted to follow her, to perhaps apologise for whatever reason, but what he was there to do quickly sprung back into his mind when Alfred spoke up again.

"_Pfft_, what's her problem!? I mean, _really_!?" He moaned, adding in a huff, "And I don't stick my nose in everything!"

Arthur fought the urge to shake his head disapprovingly. Instead, he gave Alfred a hard look, and spoke up again, "Well, for one, _that_ is a perfectly good example of why you should keep your mouth shut."

Alfred pouted, "Hey, man, don't you turn on me, too..."

"I'm _not_." Arthur said, forcefully. He peered towards the curved staircase above the front desk. "Look, let's just... Get this over with, alright? The sooner, the better."

China's office was on the second floor, not far from the corridor where Germania's was. It was easy enough to identify, given the amount of students seated on plastic chairs outside the door. Arthur and Alfred took two seats at the end of the row, next to a small, short-haired blonde girl, whose feet barely touched the floor from where she sat perched on her chair. It became apparent in a matter of moments that this was a queue, as China opened the door and motioned the student closest to the door inside his office. After he'd firmly shut the door again, everyone would shuffle down a seat.

Luckily, no one was inside longer than a minute; it was quite a while before Arthur's turn came, though. Soon, an East Asian girl with long, dark chestnut hair, wearing a cerise-coloured satchel over her shoulder joined the end of the queue, taking a seat next to Alfred; exchanging friendly words with him upon doing so. Arthur didn't think he'd seen the blonde girl to his right before, however, he did, recognise the other girl from his Music class, his Archery class and, he was quite sure, his Technology class. If he remembered rightly, her name was Mei, and she was one of the violinists in his Music class. She was the delegate from Taiwan, and in the same grade as Arthur.

China ushered the blonde girl in, and barely a minute afterwards, back out of his office. The line of students was still building, and he looked rather exasperated upon seeing this. He shook his head a bit, then turned his attention to Arthur, promptly cocking an eyebrow.

"You here too?" He sounded mildly surprised. Before Arthur could reply to that, China motioned inside the office. "Hurry up. This taking forever already."

Arthur got up, as did Alfred, and the two of them followed China through the door.

"America, you go back out and wait your turn." China frowned towards Alfred, just before he was about to close the door behind them.

"Oh, I'm not signing up." Alfred told him, with a grin. "It wouldn't be fair if I did; I'd get everyone's vote! 'Sides, it was my idea, after all, right? I'm just here supporting Artie."

China shut the door, half-muttering with sarcasm, "Good to know you so modest about it." He rolled his eyes and walked across the room. The layout of the office was similar to Germania's, though there was no visible name plaque on the desk. The furnishings were in-keeping with the clean, white, modern theme of the school, but it was also heavily decorated, with several wall hangings and scrolls and archaeological items dotted around on the desk and above file cabinets. It was almost like they'd stepped into part of a museum. Arthur's attention was caught particularly by a long, thin hanging of a dragon-like creature, painted in gold ink over a red fabric. He hadn't noticed he was staring at it, however, until China came back over and smacked him over the head with a wad of paper.

"Oof! Wh-What was that for!?" Arthur yelped. Alfred burst out laughing at this, much to his irritation.

China glanced over towards the hanging, asking plainly, "You like the dragon?"

"I er... Well yes, it's... Interesting." Arthur replied, shooting a glare towards Alfred.

"That just replica for decoration." China handed one of the pieces of paper to Arthur. "I keep real one at home."

As the teacher turned to go back to his desk, Arthur glanced down towards the paper he'd been handed – however, his attention didn't go straight to it, as what China had said suddenly clicked in his mind. He looked back up again.

"Erm... Home?" He repeated in question. Didn't China live at the Academy, like the rest of them?

"That what I said." China replied nonchalantly, placing the papers back on his desk. "I call Beijing home, like you call London home."

Arthur hadn't really thought much about his run-down little flat, his previous home, since he'd set out for Pangaea. He'd been renting it, so before leaving he'd had to bring everything with him. There was probably a new occupant in it by now. "To an extent, I suppose." He frowned, adding with a slightly bitter tone, "This place is my home, now, after all."

"That right." China nodded, turning back towards them and folding his arms into his long sleeves. "You read paper to me."

Arthur cast his gaze downwards again; he'd been handed a print-out of a list. A very short list, as a matter of fact. He cleared his throat, and began with the title. "'Student council candidate rules. Number one, candidates must be more than three months away from their next birthday, or from their intended time of progressive graduation. Number two, candidates are to play fair when rallying for votes from other students; they are not to belittle any of their opposing candidates, nor are they to glorify themselves through lies. Any such behaviour will result in the candidate being removed from the elections immediately.'" That was understandable enough. "'Number three, successful candidates must serve the student body and other teachers to the best of their abilities, or as to be stated in the student council rules.'"

"Very good." China said. "Take that with you to memorise." He picked up another piece of paper from his desk, and a pen, both of which he handed over to Arthur. "Put your name down. You done for now."

Arthur folded up and pocketed the rules, before writing his delegate name at the bottom of the piece of paper; there were several other country names above his already. So, by the looks of things, he certainly did have a lot of opposition... Which was definitely not a good thing.

After he'd taken the pen and paper back, China walked back over to the door, smacking Alfred's hand away from a heavily-detailed egg-shaped ornament set on top of one of the file cabinets on his way there. "No touching!" He barked. "That very fragile!"

Alfred whined and rubbed at his hand. "But you said it wasn't real!"

"I say that about hanging, not about egg." China huffed. "Besides, though egg not real either, it still made of porcelain. You break it, you pay for what real one cost."

"...What did the real one cost?" Alfred asked, cautiously.

"More than you can afford, that all you need to know."

Part of Arthur was genuinely curious to know how much it did actually cost; he didn't get a chance to ask, though, as China quickly ushered the two of them out of his office then. When out in the hallway, he wondered what he was going to do next... Perhaps he'd need to wait until the elections were announced fully to plan that?

"What you doing here?" China's voice began behind them, sounding marginally more angry than it had been when scolding Alfred.

The two of them turned back around to look at the remaining queue of students. Mei was at the front of the line, and had risen from her seat; she was now huffing at China, "You didn't ask anyone else why they were here!"

"They get fair elections. You standing make it not fair." China thumbed over his shoulder at the corridor that lead towards the foyer staircase. "Go back to dorm, you have homework."

"Why would me standing make it unfair!?" Mei furrowed her brow.

"Because I running them." China lifted his chin. "That unfair advantage. Now go."

Mei crossed her arms, and responded defiantly, "That's stupid, I've got as much chance as anyone else has!"

"If you win, people going to think I fixed polls for you." China's mouth spread into a hard line, and he folded his own arms into his long sleeves.

"They're not going to think that at all!" Mei stuck her bottom lip out, then a moment later, opened her eyes wide, as if she'd come to a sudden realisation. "You'd just be ashamed of me, if I didn't win!"

Arthur was quite engrossed in this argument, as were the several others that had joined the queue behind Mei; he was so engrossed, in fact, that at first he didn't notice Alfred stepping past him to approach them.

"Hey, whoa, China, dude! What's wrong with Mei entering?"

China, about to respond to Mei, paused; his eyes then slid up towards Alfred instantly. "She have unfair advantage."

Mei stomped her foot. "No, it's not that at all! Like I said – if I lose, it doesn't look good on _your _part!"

"Hey, China, c'mon man!" Alfred said, before China could reply once again. "Let Mei give it a shot-"

"America, you mind own business!" China snapped at Alfred, before rubbing at his temple and muttering something along the lines of, _'I'm getting too old to be dealing with argumentative children'_. He shot his gaze back towards Mei. "Fine, we get it done quickly, aru. Come in."

China stepped back into his office. Mei, before following, turned her head towards Alfred, her aggrivated expression disappearing the very moment China had his back to her; she put on a bright smile and mouthed a 'thank you'. Alfred gave her a thumbs up, just before the door was closed behind her; he looked rather pleased with himself, afterwards.

Arthur didn't know whether this was a good thing, exactly, or not. "Alfred, you know when Elise mentioned that you stick your nose in everyone else's business?" He began, monotonally.

"Chyeah?" Alfred replied. "What about it?"

Since he hadn't caught on to the point of his statement (not that he was wholly expecting him to), Arthur just shook his head, and groaned, "Nevermind."

* * *

Thursday's events weighed heavier on Konstantin's mind than he would have liked them to. Much heavier. He spent the passing days mulling Adéla's proposition, and the blackmail letter, over in his mind – despite any protests from Aurel, who was well aware, perhaps _too_ aware, of what was going on inside his mind. Aurel continued to sleep with Konstantin in his bed; Konstantin was mostly past the point of caring about that, with everything else he had to worry about.

He kept the blackmail letter, along with the picture of Svetlana's necklace that had been enclosed with it, in his back pocket, usually, or in his nightstand the rest of the time (which he had to be careful about, as Aurel was still unaware of the drug kit that was also in there). The reason being, he'd planned to face up to Adéla about it. A short think on the matter made it very obvious, in his mind, that she'd been the one to send it. Adéla, after all, shared a dorm with Svetlana; she'd likely stolen the necklace, and then sent the letter in third person. He didn't think it the most successful attempt to remain anonymous, and actually, he found that factor kind of insulting in itself, the blackmail part aside; it was like Adéla thought him stupid enough to be careless on purpose.

He had half a mind to refuse her demands, but at this point, he didn't think it possible. Jovan's birthday was drawing closer and closer, and he was going to cross over; he'd already promised the Serb that he'd look after Svetlana for him, and were he not to agree to Adéla's demands, she wouldn't get her necklace back. That cheap piece of crap seemed like a ridiculously petty thing to be at the centre of all this, but Konstantin was more concerned about the 'dire consequences' that the letter spoke of. He'd only get the necklace back if he went along with what Adéla wanted, so he understood; but if he didn't, then what would happen? Would the necklace be destroyed, or something? Somehow, he didn't think so; it wasn't much of a convincing threat. The only way he'd know was to talk to Adéla herself.

His chance came, on Tuesday afternoon. It wasn't that he hadn't spotted her around campus up until then, and he'd caught her eye knowingly once or twice, but at those times, they'd both been around several other students, and he hadn't deemed it appropriate to do so. Causing a scene over something like that was certainly not something he'd wanted to do. But Tuesday presented him with a perfect opportunity. Halfway through Poetry class, Turkey had ordered him to read from the textbook a poem entirely in Latin. Out of sheer frustration, he'd muttered over the quiet of the class a colourful insult, loud enough for the teacher to hear. Since it was something he'd done routinely (albeit out of class), Konstantin hadn't counted on Turkey being able to understand what _'Yaj layna' _(1) meant. Consequently, he'd been thrown out of the classroom, almost literally. Told to wait out in the corridor until the lesson was over, he'd huffed and defiantly wandered off outside as soon as Turkey had slammed the classroom door shut again.

Out of sheer luck, therefore, he came across Adéla, in her gym kit, walking quickly down in the direction of the bottom field. She was without her bow for her Archery lesson; he figured she'd been to run some manner of errand for Mongolia (likely to award herself more points in his good book).

"Adéla!" He called out, jogging to catch up with her near to the library doors.

Promptly, she stopped in her course and turned to face him. A placid smile spread onto her plain face. "_Ahoj_, Kosta." She said, putting her hands on her hips. "What're you doing out here? Don't you have class?"

He didn't answer her question. He promptly put his hand into the back pocket of his pants and tugged out the letter. This was the best opportunity he'd have to face her about the letter; with no other students or staff around, the area was silent, and best of all, there was no Vavrinec attached to her hip, either. He unfolded the note and the picture, and shoved them towards her. She looked confused, which he assumed was a façade.

"Explain this to me." He said, his tone of voice low and his brow knitted.

Adéla lifted her hand and took the papers between her long fingers, reading through the letter and then taking a brief look at the picture. All the while, he kept note of her expressions; her confusion turned into surprise, and then her lips pursed as if she were suddenly anxious.

"I've... Well, I've no idea where this has come from." She replied, offering the papers back to him.

He snatched them out of her hands. "What the fuck do you mean, you've no idea where it's come from!?" He hissed between gritted teeth. "You wrote it!"

Adéla brought a hand to her chest, looking offended. "Me? I did nothing of the sort, Kosta. Clearly this is an attempt to frame me."

Konstantin gave her a hard stare. "Do you think I'm _stupid_!? Lana told me her damn necklace disappeared when _you _were in the dorm!" He stuffed the papers back into his pocket. "What the hell's your problem!?"

The Czech woman's eyes flickered from side to side; he'd put her on the spot. She lowered her hand again, clenching her fists, refusing to meet the glower he'd fixed on her face at that moment. But when she was ready to reply, she shot him an equally stern gaze. "The evidence does point in my direction, doesn't it? But I swear to you, I didn't send you that message. Nor am I in possession of that little trinket of Lana's."

"Then who was it?" He pressed. "Vavrinec?"

Adéla narrowed her eyes, and snarled, "You say that like you expect me to know!"

"Well, _gee_, I wonder why!" He spat, sarcastically.

Lifting her chin, she returned her hands to her hips, though her stance was tense, upright and on the offence, this time. "Cut the crap and get back to class. I need to go, too. But answer me this, at least – have you made your choice?"

He didn't need to think about his answer, at that moment. "No." He stated. "No, I don't cave to blackmail, Adéla." He frowned heavily, his eyes trailing away from her face and towards the space between the library and eastern class building. "I'm sure Mongolia wouldn't mind seeing that letter, actually. I mean, then there's no way you'll get the job, and this joke'll be over, right?" His stare met hers, again.

Taken aback by that, Adéla shook her head briskly. "Don't you fucking dare; do you even know what the sender of that letter meant by 'dire consequences'!?"

"No." He retorted. "Do _you_?"

She shook her head again. "No. And I'm not sure it pertains that they'll be destroying Lana's necklace."

"Neither do I. All the same, I don't believe you."

Adéla's lips spread into a thin line, and neither of them said nothing, for the few moments that followed. "Think about it again, Kosta. Take another day to think about it, at least. I'm usually in the shared common room after class; come to me tomorrow with your final answer."

She turned, then, and jogged away past the library. Left standing in the middle of the buildings alone, Konstantin had half a mind to follow her, and indeed show Mongolia the blackmail letter. But the threat of the consequences wouldn't allow him to do so... He thoroughly despised being manipulated like this, and it seemed like the easiest solution was to play along with Adéla and let her win the 'duel'.

Inwardly livid once more, he dragged his feet around the central building, and then slumped down onto one of the patches of grass in the quad; he'd planned to do this when he'd made his way outside originally, sitting out here was better than being stuck bored in an empty corridor. He lay down on his back, staring up at the expanse of hazy blue above the tops of the dorm buildings.

He was no longer sure whether Adéla was, indeed, lying or not. If she hadn't sent the blackmail, and neither had Vavrinec, who had done? And why did they want Adéla to succeed so much that they'd threaten Konstantin in the process? It was all getting to be too much to think about...

The sound of footsteps on the ground, and then crunching on the grass, snapped Konstantin out of his thoughts. He glanced over in that direction, and then shot forward into a sitting position again, startled. Turkey had followed him out there, and was now practically standing over him, half-glaring downwards.

"'Ey, Essay-less Brat, I told ya to wait outside the classroom, didn't I?" He didn't sound nearly as angry as Konstantin would have expected him to have, though. Nor was his scowl as deep as usual. Even more surprisingly, he didn't yank him up to his feet by the back of his collar; instead, the Turkish man lowered himself down onto the grass, too. He then spotted, quite obviously, the nervous and confused expression that had crossed Konstantin's face, and he grunted, "What!? You're sat on the damn grass, why can't I!?"

"I never said you couldn't." Konstantin muttered wryly, bringing his knees up to rest his chin on them, looping his arms around his shins.

"I thought ya might've run off. Didn't think it was 'cause you were havin' girl problems, though. I thought Czechia was into that big lumbering kid she's always around." Turkey sounded amused, which didn't help Konstantin's mood at all.

"It's not... Like that..." He groaned, shifting his forehead to his kneecaps instead.

"Yeah? Well, what's it about then? You seemed pretty pissed off with her."

Of all the people in the world, Turkey was probably the person he least wanted to talk to about the blackmail – not that he was prepared to discuss it with anyone that wasn't already in the know, of course. "S'none of your business..." He mumbled, off-hand.

"Hey, kid. Lift yer damn head up when talkin' to me, would ya?"

With reluctance, Konstantin looked up, squinting over his knees at the man.

Turkey was frowning, but again, he didn't look as angry in the way Konstantin was used to. "Somethin's been eatin' you lately. Is it 'cause of the rogue bastards?"

"I said it's none of your business." Konstantin replied, coldly. He'd done his best to put that event to the back of his mind but, in a way, Turkey was right, which only served to irritate him more.

"Yer s'posed to be in my lesson right now; I think it is my business."

Konstantin didn't reply. Instead, he slid his eyes back towards the grass, purposefully looking away from the man.

Turkey grumbled, and in his peripheral, Konstantin could see him rubbing at his forehead. "Shit happens, kid. That's life. No use sulking over it."

Shaking his head, Konstantin answered in a low, sarcastic mumble, "Thanks, that helps a _whole_ lot." His lips twitching into a hard line, he glowered over at the teacher, momentarily. "Don't you have a class to attend to right now, anyway?"

To his surprise, Turkey chortled, his shoulders shaking. He let his hand drop from his forehead. "Yeah, well, I left Mama's Boy in charge. Not sayin' it was a good idea, but it might teach him some responsibility in the long run."

Again, Konstantin said nothing. Turkey stood back up and reached into the pocket of his hooded jacket, producing from it a small slip of paper.

"Well then, brat, if ya don't wanna talk, I'm wastin' my time, huh?" He held the paper down towards him. "If ya feel like talkin' tomorrow though, you've got detention after class."

With another glare at the teacher, Konstantin snatched the slip out of his hand. He didn't watch him leave; rather, he just stuffed the paper into the same back pocket the note and picture were in, without reading it first, and then lay back down on the grass just as before, acting like he didn't care he'd been given detention. After all, why should he have cared? It was just one more thing to add to his ongoing pile of shit.

He just hoped that with everything that was happening, things would soon – somehow – start to look up.

* * *

Arthur had nearly forgotten to head to the library that Tuesday evening. He didn't think Lukas or Aurel would mind if he was a little late to the magic club meeting – at least, he hoped that would be the case. When he walked into the building, he found the two of them behind the front desk, helping the blonde, buxom librarian ferry some heavy looking boxes into the back room.

Aurel was the first to spot him, as he all but dumped a box into Lukas's arms, the Norwegian taking a stumbling step backwards with the force of the weight. "Ah, Arthur, you're here! Iryna needs these boxes moving, would you mind helping?"

Arthur frowned a bit; he didn't really have much of a choice, did he? "Alright." He muttered, walking around the desk to get behind it. Off-hand, he decided to ask, before heaving one of the many not-quite-as-heavy-as-they-looked boxes lying around up, "Any idea of what we're doing today?"

Picking up another box of his own, Aurel answered, "Well, we were hoping you'd be able to think of something, actually."

Just as Arthur was about to glance over towards the Romanian, Lukas's quiet voice spoke, "Here, I'll take it." He took the box out of Arthur's arms and made his way into the back room again.

Aurel followed him, continuing to speak jauntily. "I'm sure you've got a long list of things we could be doing, after all!"

"Well... Not much of a list, actually." Arthur replied, but it seemed like Aurel, now in the back room, hadn't heard him. He shook his head and picked up another box, wandering in after them.

The back room was poorly lit and had no windows; it was basically just a storage room, and was filled with rows of the same grey file cabinets that the teachers kept in their offices, so it appeared. In one corner, there was already a stack of the boxes, and Aurel and Lukas were placing theirs there, so Arthur followed suit. The librarian – Iryna – was knelt by them with a marker pen, labelling each with '**MOVED**' in bold, black writing.

When he placed the box down, she smiled upwards at him, very warmly... Although, as she was bent over, gravity was pulling on her large chest, and it was difficult for him not to stare at that, rather than at her face. "Thank you, dear."

"Not at all..." He mumbled, trying his very best not to appear flustered; shuffling out of the room again as quickly as he could.

To his misfortune, Aurel had apparently caught sight of this. He grinned at Arthur, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he passed him with another box. All the Romanian gained in return, however, was a cold stare. Nothing was said about the matter until all of the boxes had been moved, and Iryna was back out at her desk, thanking them all again.

Aurel lead the trio towards the seating area he'd met Arthur in the last time. The smug smile was still plastered on his face. "I hope you don't mind helping Iryna out again in the future, Arthur. Lukas and I have kind of made in an unwritten rule for the magic club. After all, it wouldn't be the gentlemanly thing were we not to – the poor girl has terrible back problems, what with her-"

"I think Arthur gets the point." Lukas interjected, his eyes narrowed at the Romanian.

Arthur coughed awkwardly, equally as displeased. "Erm, yes, I do get it, thank you."

Seeming unaffected by the reactions of the other two, Aurel proceeded to perch himself on the edge of one of the seats. "Of course, but as Arthur seemed to be appreciating her assets, I thought he'd be interested to know."

Lukas's brow furrowed. "You say that like Arthur's the first to do so."

"Well, of course, he's not!" Aurel chuckled. "I mean, I'm quite sure I'd be doing it too; Iryna's not really my type of woman, though, unfortunately."

"Really, now." The Norwegian said, monotonally, but with a hint of underlying, snide amusement. "The way you say that, it sounds as if you actually _have _a type of woman..."

Catching onto that and apparently taking it as an insult, Aurel squinted his eyes, retorting almost defensively, "Oh, _please_! Of course I have a type of woman! It just happens to vastly differ from yours!"

"I'm not sure it's all _that_ different..." Lukas droned.

Feeling the tips of his ears go pink, Arthur let out a frustrated huff; this subject, somehow, was rather uncomfortable, for him. "Erm, do you mind if we perhaps talk about something else?" He asked, a bit more vigorously than he'd have considered polite.

Aurel peered up at him, neutralising his expression. "Ah, yes; we've plenty of things to be getting on with, I take it?"

As Lukas took a seat of his own, Arthur paused to think on the matter again. "Well, Alfred and I have done everything we can concerning the student council, right now."

"Oh? Well, I'm sure there's something else we can help you with, in that case." Aurel said. "Anything you need, Arthur." He offered him a smile. "Anything at all."

Lukas nodded at that. Arthur, his eyes panning towards the Norwegian, racked his brain in silence for a moment.

"Well... There is something..." Arthur began, quietly. He frowned a bit, sure that with the library as empty as usual no one was listening in, but taking the necessary precaution of being hushed all the same. "The Giga Neuro project; do you remember me mentioning that last week?"

Aurel nodded promptly. "You did mention it briefly. I can't say I've ever heard of it, though."

"Me neither." Lukas added.

"Well, I think it would be wise for us to research it." Arthur explained. "I think that it may be a good place to start. It might give us some insight." His frown deepened for a moment. "Unfortunately, so far, I've had no luck when researching it alone. All I know is that it was the origin of this Academy, and it collected the data used to select the delegates."

Lukas looked pensive. "You researched this on the Intranet?"

Arthur gave him a nod. "That was all I could find on it. I haven't found any books here about it, either."

"Well, of course they wouldn't put _books _in here about it!" Aurel interjected with his hands on his hips, talking more loudly than Arthur would have liked him to. "I suspect the information's hiding in the staff archives, locked away in the Principal's office, most likely." A devious smirk spread across his face, very suddenly. "In which case, you can leave that to me."

The expression on the Romanian's face was disturbing. Arthur didn't know whether the fact that he was so confident about going about snooping around the Principal's office for secret files was a good thing overall, or not. Lukas was shaking his head, perhaps having thought the same thing.

"Is that all, Arthur?" The Norwegian asked.

"Actually..." Arthur began again. "Lukas, there's something I've been wondering about... Aurel said last week that the two of you believe this island to be man-made..."

His expression unchanged, Lukas replied, "You want to know how I can tell?"

That was only a part of it, but Arthur gave a nod. "It's... Something to do with magical energy?" It almost sounded like a ludicrous topic of discussion, but Arthur, fascinated as he was with the occult, did genuinely want to know – and part of him also felt like that matter, which had been skimmed over the last time the magic club had gathered, was important.

Lukas paused, seeming reluctant to answer. "To an extent..." He cast his dull gaze towards the carpet, then back at Arthur. "You know about the cycle of life, right?"

Arthur shrugged. "Refresh my memory?"

"When a living thing dies, be it a person, or a plant, or an animal, the corpse it leaves behind decays, and returns to the earth..." Lukas continued. "From the decay, life reforms; the Earth is in a constant state of recycling. In the same way, the spirit is separated from the body at death, and rejoins other spirits to be hence reborn anew. The spirits on their path to rebirth produce magical energy – of which, Pangaea has an unnaturally small amount."

After having taking a moment to let the Norwegian's words sink in, Arthur cocked an eyebrow, and responded, matter-of-factly, "That's... Rather deep, actually. You're able to talk to these spirits, then?"

Lukas's discomfort grew. "Ever since I was a kid, yes." He frowned. "Of course... People normally don't believe you when you say you can." He shook his head slightly. "They think you're insane; that the loss of your family at a young age caused you to see and hear the dead..." He released a bitter snort through his nose. "I'm not even sure Søren and Emil really believe me, either."

"Oh... I see..." Arthur breathed out, feeling his shoulders slump a little. That was sad, to say the least; the idea that things would have been so difficult for Lukas, having that ability, had never actually occurred to him. Part of him felt bad for having asked in the first place... Still, now he had a better grasp on what he'd wanted to know.

The pause that followed was quite awkward, but when Lukas then spoke up again, Arthur didn't know whether it was a good thing or not. "If you're at all interested... Gregory's spirit departed from the island a while ago. I assume he's at peace now."

Swallowing a bit, Arthur nodded. "Hmn. Well, that's a relief... I suppose... Ah, but..." He looked towards the Norwegian again. "How could he have left, if this is a man-made island, as you said?"

"By the ocean." Lukas replied.

That made enough sense, Arthur supposed. And indeed, his answer had been honest – he did feel placated with the idea that Gregory's spirit wasn't wandering around the island, lost and distraught. Unsure of what to say next, he glanced breifly in Aurel's direction. The Romanian had been oddly quiet for the past minute or so. Arthur thought perhaps he was letting Lukas explain what he needed to without interruption, at first, but now it seemed as if his attention had been taken by something else. Seconds later, footsteps passed behind the bookcase opposite them, and Aurel rose from his seat.

"What is it?" Lukas asked.

Aurel waited for the footsteps to disappear towards the other end of, before answering in a hushed tone, "They've come back..."

Before either of the other two could ask who 'they' were, Aurel had set off in that direction. Lukas and Arthur exchanged quick glances, before getting up as well, and following.

They found Aurel leaning against the wall next to the open shutter that lead into the computer suite; he was listening in to the conversation inside, and they huddled nearby him to do the same.

"We are becoming impatient, Eduard." The first voice Arthur heard was, unmistakeably, and to his surprise, Francis's.

"Well... I'm very sorry about that." Eduard's voice replied, plainly. "As I've been saying for the past few days, though, I don't have what you're looking for."

"Eduard... You do understand what we are doing, don't you?" Francis continued. There was an ire in his voice that Arthur had yet to hear from him, and yet, were the voice coming from anyone else, it wouldn't have sounded angered at all.

"Of course. You're trying to clear Gilbert's name. You believe his side of the story, just as Tino believes mine." Eduard said, as if he were reading off a script.

Antonio's voice was the third; he sounded mildly frustrated. "_Ay, _it's no use, Fran. C'mon, let's go."

"_Non_. Not just yet."

This was bad. Arthur's mind went straight to the map, which was clearly what Francis and Antonio were looking for – evidence to prove that Gilbert had been right in seeing Eduard steal from Germania's archives. He had half a mind to enter the computer suite then and there, but was certain that he'd achieve nothing in doing so. Instead, he tapped on Aurel and Lukas's shoulders, and motioned for them to follow him back a few steps, as quickly and as quietly as possible.

"They've came here looking for him, last week." Aurel muttered, frowning. "They said they wanted to apologise on Gilbert's behalf."

Arthur's eyes panned sidelong to the metal shutters, and he replied, also hushed, "Really? Well, that certainly didn't look like apologising to me."

Aurel nodded. "Seems like more of an interrogation. Think we should intervene? You said Eduard was only helping you, after all."

"He was." Arthur replied. "But..." He glanced towards Lukas, then, momentarily.

The Norwegian's lips had spread into a hard frown – something that Arthur had expected, but wasn't happy to see. After Lukas's initial reaction and feelings towards finding out what Eduard had done, Arthur felt like his opinion would matter the most.

"And what would we gain from that?" Lukas said, after realising Arthur wanted an answer from him. "If we jump in, they'll know for sure something's wrong."

"Good point." Arthur said, firmly. "But... Let's at least talk to Eduard once they're gone."

Lukas didn't seem pleased with that resolution; Aurel, on the other hand, was willing to go with it. The three of them moved further back towards the seating area; once Francis and Antonio had apparently decided they weren't going to get anything out of Eduard, they departed, not managing to take notice of those that had been eavesdropping as they sauntered towards the library doors down the next row, the way they had entered. Sure that the two of them were gone, Arthur, Lukas and Aurel then went back towards the computer suite.

Eduard was rapping away at his keyboard, as if he hadn't just been pressed for information. He did turn his head towards them with a frown when they entered, though; he perhaps had thought Francis and Antonio had returned. However it disappeared from his face, when he caught sight of Arthur. In fact, he put on a relieved smile instead.

"Ah... I'm quite popular today." He chuckled, swivelling a quarter of the way around on his computer chair to face them. "What can I do for you, Arthur?" He eyed Lukas and Aurel momentarily. "Unless you're just here to use the computers..."

Arthur could feel Lukas becoming rigidly tense to his right, as if he were trying very hard to suppress anger. He cocked his head towards the Norwegian for a moment and said plainly, "Lukas, could you perhaps close and lock the shutter, please?"

Lukas broke the short-lived glower he was holding in Eduard's direction and silently complied with Arthur. Meanwhile, a look of confusion had crossed the Estonian's face, and Aurel had begun to poke around the room, peering under computer benches with a strange sort of curiosity.

Upon seeing Eduard's expression, Arthur cleared his throat. "Don't worry, we're not here to interrogate you. We're merely concerned about..."

Eduard pushed his glasses up the bridge his nose. "Francis and Antonio?"

Arthur shrugged. "The situation in general."

"If you're hiding the maps in here..." Aurel began nonchalantly, peering behind one of the monitors. "It might be better if we take it somewhere safer."

Looking considerably surprised, Eduard looked towards Aurel, then back at Arthur. "You've... Told them?"

"Erm..." Arthur began, not having taken that into account. "Well, yes."

Eduard's mouth spread into a hard line, and calmly, he spoke before Arthur had a chance to explain. "Part of your plan, I hope?"

"They want to help." Arthur answered, with a light sigh.

Eduard took his eyes off of Arthur and peered behind him, at Lukas. He held his gaze there for a moment, then swivelled on his seat towards Aurel. "Well, I've no further use for the maps." He said, reaching into his trouser pocket and taking out his small screwdriver. "Here, you'll need this if you want them."

Aurel approached him, and took the screwdriver from his hand, before bringing it up to the end of his nose, examining it very closely as if it was an object alien to him, and not a perfectly normal hand tool.

"What for?" He lowered it and stared at Eduard.

The Estonian motioned with his head towards the opposite end of the room. "The spare computer tower underneath the bench. Open it."

Once Aurel had located the item with his eyes, he wordlessly made his way in its direction. Eduard then promptly turned back to Arthur. "I doubt that will stop Francis and Antonio, but if you wish to take them, then that's fine by me."

Arthur nodded lightly. "Thank you." Judging by what Antonio had said, he could see the two of them giving in soon enough, especially now that the evidence was being removed entirely from the computer suite.

Aurel knelt down and tugged the computer tower out into the aisle between the benches, before proceeding to unscrew the metal side. The other three watched him in silence, as he took off the side, revealing the maps inside. His eccentric face lighting up at once, as if he were a young child who'd just opened the Christmas present and seen inside what they'd been wanting all year, Aurel took the maps in hand and opened them up.

"Ah, look at these! They're very detailed." He grinned. "How fascinating – look, Lukas! Here's the catacombs!"

Arthur coughed. "They're underground passages."

Lukas stepped across the room, lowering himself to Aurel's level and taking a look at the map himself.

"I assume that's all you wanted, Arthur?" Eduard asked.

Arthur nodded. "Unless Aurel and Lukas have anything to add?"

Lukas looked up with a marginally displeased expression, and for a second it seemed as if he were going to say something, yet no response came. Aurel rose and carefully placed the maps inside the satchel over his shoulder.

"Well, Eduard, now that we're a team, I've a good piece of advice for you." The Romanian said, holding the screwdriver back out towards the Estonian. The crooked grin from before returned to his face. "Leave the petty theft to the experts. We can't afford to have you getting yourself into any more trouble, can we?"

"Getting into any more trouble?" Eduard repeated, smiling lightly as he took his screwdriver back. "I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Notes:

(1) – _Yaj layna –_ Literally means, in Bulgarian, 'eat shit'.

I fell short of the 10,000 word mark again, but I hope you'll forgive me for that seeing as how I'll be starting a new side project to Corrupt Circle next week, for NaNoWriMo 2012. The majority vote on the polls went towards a prequel for Konstantin's backstory, and so that's what I'll be doing. Info can be found in my profile page.

Other than that, thanks for reading!

_-Lusky._


	17. XVII

A/N: I'm not dead! Honest! This chapter merely required a rewrite when I found I wasn't happy with the original. I'm terribly sorry for the wait. Hopefully this story and Here I Stand will be updated more frequently from now on. I hope you all had a good Christmas and New Years, too!

-**Zephrybolt: **Thanks, and I hope you're still keeping tabs on the story!

* * *

_**XVII.**_

A sweep. A grunt. A smack. A crash.

It had all happened more suddenly than he'd thought; so suddenly that he'd almost lost balance, staggering forward at the last moment, and raising his head to find his opponent empty handed. Paulo looked almost as surprised as Arthur felt, the Portuguese man's head turning steadily to where his mock sword lay on the floor, a good few feet away. Arthur only had time to straighten his posture before Paulo's attention snapped back towards him.

"You did it!" The older student was grinning broadly.

"I did it...?" Arthur repeated breathily. He'd been sparring with Paulo since the Swordsmanship lesson had begun that day. So far in the class, he'd been unable to land a hit on the Portuguese student, unless Paulo eased off and allowed him to do so... But this time, he'd managed a clean parry and a retaliating hit that had forced Paulo's weapon out of his hand. Arthur had to put a lot of energy even into just blocking Paulo's attacks, and he was now out of breath; he almost didn't believe what he'd just managed.

"You're getting good." Paulo chuckled lightly, going to pick his sword up.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling, "I don't think I'd have been nearly as good, if I didn't have you teaching me..."

"I'm sure that's not the case." Paulo stepped back over to him. "Let's take a breather, anyway. You look exhausted."

They made their way to the edge of the room and sat against the wall, in silence. After classes were over the next day, Arthur had a small list of things he needed to do, and was quite glad Alfred hadn't seemed to have bothered him any more about returning to soccer practise, as being guilt tripped into doing so would have cut the time in which he had very thin. There was the meeting with Eoghan and the others at six, of course, but there was something else he had to do beforehand...

"Something on your mind, Art'ur?" Paulo asked.

Arthur shook his head, idly starting to watch Rome across the room, correcting one of the other students on a difficult thrusting posture. "Ah, nothing." He lied. "Nothing at all."

"Oh... Alright." The Portuguese student said, slowly. "You looked a little sad just now, is all."

"I did?" Arthur inwardly winced a bit at the thought. He coughed. "Erm... Well, I assure you, it _is _nothing."

Paulo made a docile smile, which reminded Arthur considerably of the almost apologetic expressions Konstantin had made when he'd first started aiding him in Archery lessons. In fact, the more he thought about it, Paulo and Konstantin did seem quite similar, in Arthur's opinion – they were both senior students, both top of their classes and had been assigned by their teachers to show Arthur the ropes of their redeeming subjects. Additionally, they were both pretty nice guys, though the significant differences were that Paulo had a very calming aura about him, and was very soft-spoken. Konstantin simply didn't have either of those traits, and if Arthur had known about the Academy's purposes before he'd arrived on Pangaea – before he'd met any of the other students – Konstantin would have been the sort of person he'd have thought of, if he'd ever been asked what an ideal candidate for an 'ANGEL' would have been.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's perfectly fine." Paulo said.

Arthur frowned, initially disgruntled by the accusation that there was anything to talk about in the first place... Which there _was_, but he really didn't think he wanted to discuss it. On the other hand, mulling it over for a couple of moments, he realised that perhaps asking Paulo, who seemed smart enough and perhaps might know something helpful, would have been a good idea.

"Paulo... Do you know of a girl called Elise?" He managed to make himself ask, albeit with caution in his tone.

The Portuguese man paused in thought, then nodded, his eyes lighting up a bit. "I do." His smile spread a bit further then, and he asked, "What about her?"

"I may have said..." He swallowed, remembering not to give away any specific details. "Er... Some things that she... Didn't agree with." He examined Paulo's face for a moment, before quickly adding, "Of course, I was planning to apologise to her today." Despite the fact that the argument had mainly been between Elise and Alfred, Arthur had felt obliged to make an apology nonetheless. He didn't _want _Elise to oppose what he was doing; what he was going to do – far from it. Though he supposed it wouldn't have mattered much in the long run, for her to be so upset with him over it was disheartening, to say the least.

Paulo looked slightly confused. "Ah, well, I don't think there's much I can help you with there. If you're planning to apologise, that's really the best you can do. I'm sure she'll understand."

Arthur wasn't sure Elise _would _understand, not on the matter that had caused the disagreement in the first place, but he was hoping she would accept his apology, at the very least. He nodded lightly, muttering, "Well, there you go. That's what was on my mind."

"Elise doesn't stand out much, but from what I know, she's quite popular with the male students." Paulo made the sheepish smile again. "I don't think you've done anything drastic... I think if you'd upset her, you'd have known about it from Lars or from Kristian... Or at the very least, Lovino."

Though Paulo had a point there, it didn't actually help Arthur's mood much. Rather than it being of any comfort, the fact he'd said that Elise was 'quite popular with the male students' somehow didn't settle well with him... Rather, it angered him.

A little while afterwards, Paulo spoke again, "We've still got another ten minutes of class. Do you want to keep practising?"

Arthur agreed, deciding that the strange bout of anger might be easily expelled, by sparring again with the student who'd brought it on in the first place.

More irritable and frustrated than usual – which he supposed couldn't have been saying much – Arthur wandered into Advanced Mathematics class later on, not at all surprised to see that Elise (among a few others) was already there. She didn't see him enter the room; she was stood with India at the front of the class, her attention on the whiteboard as the teacher began to write out a long and complex algebraic equation that, in a single line, took up almost the entire width of the board. Arthur didn't give them much more than a passing glance before he headed to his seat. Elise was exceptionally good at Advanced Mathematics; it seemed it wasn't out of the ordinary at all for her to be stood at the front figuring out whatever particularly difficult warm-up task India had presented her with that day.

Though was had been first time he'd seen her since the previous day, he thought it best perhaps not to interrupt her; by the time Arthur had sat down, India had handed her the marker pen and she'd stood with one hand on a tilted hip, tapping lightly at her chin with the capped pen in a thoughtful manner he might have found endearing, had he not had their disagreement yesterday still present in his mind. He cast his eyes to the bag on his lap, and removed his required text and workbooks.

His chance came – as he had hoped – after class was over. Though he was initially unsure of whether Elise was ignoring him or not, as she had said nothing to him, nor even looked his way, during class, when he called her name in the hallway as the rest of the students piled out, she halted, looking quickly over her shoulder. Once past the initial relief that she had actually given him a response (if she hadn't, he knew he'd have felt like an idiot, especially with others in earshot).

She tilted her head very slightly in question, just as he'd caught up to her. "What is it?"

She didn't sound at all annoyed with him; rather, she was using her usual tone of voice – albeit plainly. That only served to make things more difficult, he thought, and for a moment he hesitated. Were she angry with him, had she snapped at him, he could have done the same as her and spoken without really thinking; arguing was easy enough to do, but that would have depleted the object of him approaching her in the first place.

"I..." He began, pausing again to clear his throat. He'd thought more than once or twice during class about what exactly he was going to say to her, but all that mental preparation seemed to have disappeared on the spot. "I'm sorry."

Elise wasn't frowning, but nor was she smiling, which was unusual. Slowly, she shifted her head forward and shook it, blonde waves of hair falling from her shoulders.

"Arthur..." She exhaled, not giving him eye contact. She wrapped her arms loosely around her middle. "I'm sorry too." Her lips twitched a bit, and only then did she look back up at him. "But, I still stand by what I said."

He nodded. "As do I."

She lowered her head again, adding in a soft, yet wry voice, "I thought so."

At least the apology was off his chest, he supposed, though there was something else that irked him about her objection. He eyed the rest of the class disappearing over her shoulder, making sure there was no one lingering around that could have possibly been listening in on them.

"I can't help but wonder, though..." He muttered. "Why?"

"Why?" She repeated, as her eyes, filled with surprise and confusion, snapped back upwards.

Arthur raised his shoulders in a light shrug. "I struggle to understand why you're entirely opposed to the idea."

She knitted her brow slightly, lowering her voice. "It's..." She paused, looking uncomfortable. "Look, Arthur, do you think we could talk about this another time? We've got classes to go to..."

He nodded. He remembered he did need to head to his dorm quickly to collect his guitar for Music class, after all; prolonging their conversation was going to be cutting the time he had to get there and back rather fine.

"Is meeting in the library after class alright with you?" She asked, starting to wring her hands together. "I'll tell you everything there... I promise."

Arthur agreed, and soon they'd gone their separate ways again. As per the norm, though, whereas apologising to Elise had taken one thing off Arthur's mind, what she had said to him had only added to his never-ending list of questions, and for a good part of Music class, he couldn't stop wondering what she'd meant when she said she'd 'tell him everything'. The fact he was going to find out that evening was the only thing that put his curiosity at ease.

* * *

"...And that's how the entire _'Epic of Shaykh Bedreddin, Son of Judge Simavne'_ (1) was written. Neat, huh?"

Konstantin wasn't listening. Heracles was sat on his right, fast asleep, as per the norm. He didn't even know why Turkey bothered putting them both in detention on a regular basis. It didn't stop either of them behaving the way they did. Konstantin was surprised Heracles didn't get his mother, who worked as the Academy's secretary, just to write off his detention slips. Perhaps in serving a detention, Heracles was avoiding something else that took more effort, but the only thing that happened on a Wednesday that the Greek student was involved in was soccer practice, and surely he'd rather be doing that. Konstantin certainly would have been, even though he'd had to leave the soccer club after having his device fitted. This was a rule that all senior students, were they planning on crossing over, had to oblige with; their devices would give them an unfair advantage over the rest of the students, otherwise.

Turkey grumbled, settling himself behind his desk in a slump, "You two've got to be the biggest brats I've ever had the misfortune of meeting!"

Resting his chin on his palm, his other hand toying with his pen, Konstantin slid his eyes towards Heracles momentarily. No response... He was definitely asleep. "It's not our fault you're a lousy teacher..." He said plainly, his gaze going back to the piece of paper in front of him, on which was his half-written essay.

"Doesn't seem to affect any of the others." Turkey snorted. "Seems like I'm a pretty damn good teacher, actually, givin' you guys all this extra info." He leaned back in his chair as he said this, scrunching up a piece of paper from his desk and flinging it towards the front desks, hitting Heracles on the side of the head.

The Greek woke with a slight jump. He peered towards Turkey, frowning, then set his head straight back down on the desk with a grunt.

"Ungrateful... Good for nothin'... Sacks of shit- _Hey_!" Turkey rose his voice, slamming his fist on the desk a couple of times, loudly. "Jerkules, how many times have I gotta tell ya!? You can crawl into your Mama's bed and sleep when I'm done with her in it!"

He'd been fishing for a reaction from Heracles, so as to snap him out of his sleeping state entirely, or perhaps just to anger him. Either way, the other student lifted his head again, his eyes now alight with anger. He shifted upwards, rising from his seat. Konstantin sighed inwardly, letting his pen drop and quickly grabbing Heracles's sleeve to restrain him.

"Don't bother." Konstantin said quietly.

"He insulted my mother." Heracles hissed, his glower settling down towards Konstantin, for a moment.

"_Insulted_?" Turkey piqued up, a considerable smirk on his face. "That was a compliment, kid."

Deciding there was no point in restraining him after all, Konstantin released Heracles's sleeve, allowing him to make his way to the front of the classroom and argue aggressively with the teacher. Konstantin decided he'd be the one to lay his head on the desk instead, then; he did his best to tune out the noise they were both making, his thoughts going to other matters. Adéla was expecting her response that afternoon. He imagined she was waiting for him then, not knowing he had detention. Unfortunately for her, an extra hour with Turkey at the end of the day was enough to put him well off wanting to talk to her; by no means was he in the mood.

Once the long hour of torture was finally over, he headed back to the dorms with a very agitated Heracles. Whereas Heracles disappeared into the common room, Konstantin decided he needed to sit somewhere quiet for a while until he was in a better mood. His ears were still ringing considerably from Heracles and Turkey bickering with each other in an otherwise silent room. Maybe Aurel had a book or something lying around their dorm room he could read to take his mind off things...

When he got to the door, however, there was something else that took his mind off the detention – though, not really in the way he would have liked. Hanging from the door handle was a small, plain cotton pouch. Unsure what it was, or what it was doing there, he tugged it off the handle, finding that there was a small tag attached to the drawstring. On the tag was a handwritten name: **'Konstantin'**. He was immediately sceptical. The last time anyone had left him anything at the door of the dorm was when he'd found the blackmail note the week before. Examining his name on the tag only added to this feeling of caution.

He entered the dorm, heading over to his night stand upon shutting the door behind him, taking the pouch with him. It was slightly heavy; there was definitely something inside it, though exactly what, he didn't know as of yet. The first thing he did was take out the blackmail letter from his night stand, where he'd stowed it away again after discussing it with Adéla the day before. He unfolded it and held it next to the name tag on the pouch... As he'd suspected, the handwriting was the same. His insides sunk – what did the person who'd sent the note want _now_? The item inside the pouch was quite a bit heavier than he'd have expected a necklace to be, so it couldn't have been what was stolen from Svetlana. Upon opening the pouch, he found he was right about that, though he was still surprised at its contents... He slipped the item out onto the palm of his hand.

It was a cell phone.

Regular cell phones were banned on Pangaea, for security reasons. However, there was a small number of specialised ones on the island, used by the Academy and the guards as well as some of the volunteers that ran the town. This must have been one of them. Trying to think of an explanation as to why the blackmailer would send him such a thing, Konstantin set the phone down on his night stand, and looked back inside the pouch. A piece of paper was folded up inside – another note, no doubt. He tugged it out and opened it.

_7727347920._

There were no words, just that one number. It was obvious what the sender wanted from him. He sighed heavily through his nose. This was definitely not something he wanted to have to deal with, then and there.

Snatching the phone back up, he flipped it open, pressing the power button. He thumbed in the number, and then held it to his ear, letting it ring... Maybe he'd recognise the voice of the person who'd pick up.

But he didn't.

"_Good afternoon, Konstantin._" The voice was male, deep and raspy; it almost boomed out of the phone's speaker. No one at the Academy had a voice that sounded like that...

Konstantin felt his insides turn to lead. "Who is this?" He asked, straightforwardly and with as much confidence as he could muster.

"_That is none of your concern. I'm very glad you've called, though. I was beginning to think you wouldn't..._"

Saying nothing, Konstantin swallowed, listening to the words.

"_You've been in detention again today, I understand?_" The speaker began to take on a scathing tone. "_What a naughty boy... I don't think they'd want repeat offenders like you in the training facility._"

"What do you want?" Konstantin clenched his free hand into a fist, doing his best to expel his growing irritation elsewhere, though he doubted that was going to help for very long. He was already in a bad mood, and to have to speak to the blackmailer now – if indeed that was him – was making it worse.

There was a heavy chuckle, from the other end of the line. "_I want you to give your answer to Adéla, of course._"

He paused, inhaling a deep breath through his nose. "And if I say no?"

"_Well... You read the note I send, didn't you? If you decline, I'm afraid those 'dire consequences' are going to have to come into play..._"

That was exactly what he'd feared. Gritting his teeth, his brow furrowing, Konstantin hissed, "And what _are _those consequences!? If you're planning on attacking me, then don't hide behind a damn cell phone like a coward and come at me!" His palm was hurting now, from how hard he had his fist clenched. He let the words pour out of his mouth, not stopping to think about what he was saying; he was too pissed off to care.

"_Attack _you_?_" The voice laughed again. "_I wouldn't dream of it... No, rather, should you refuse Adéla's offer, someone very close to you will be suffering because of it, instead._"

The sinking feeling spread to Konstantin's chest. "Leave Svetlana out of this."

"_Svetlana? Oh, I shouldn't worry about her. The necklace is merely leverage; a reward, should you comply wholly and throw the match against Adéla._"

He paused, and then, dreading the answer, pressed, "...Then?"

If possible, the person on the other end of the line deepened his tone further, his voice becoming cold, and almost a whisper. "_I'm sure you don't need me to give you the answer to that._"

Again, Konstantin swallowed, his grip on the phone tightening. His breath hitched in his throat. "I swear. I swear the moment I find out who the fuck you are-"

"_You won't._" The voice interjected, sounding quite sure of himself. "_Now, listen. Keep this phone with you at all times, and keep it switched off and out of sight. When I call you, I expect you to answer; the phone will switch itself on when I make a call. The battery should last until our business is finished. Are we clear?_"

He didn't reply.

"_**Are we clear**__?_" The voice repeated with more vigour.

"Why are you doing this? What's all it matter to you!?" He snapped. "What could you possibly gain from manipulating me!?"

For once, the voice didn't answer straight away. There was the faint sound of him drawing in a breath over the line, and once he'd let it go again, he then responded, "_Freedom._"

That one word didn't explain anything to Konstantin. His lips parted, his muscles tensed; he fought to find something else to say, but it proved futile, and he found himself in yet another stunned silence.

"_Adéla is waiting for you. Until next time, Konstantin._"

The line went dead.

* * *

Arthur walked back to the dorms after Music class was over with Lukas, who had approached him once Austria had dismissed the students.

Lukas silently made them both linger back until the rest of the class were far ahead of them, before turning to Arthur and saying plainly, "Aurel's going to put the maps back in Germania's archives tonight."

He had half suspected the maps were what the Norwegian had wanted to talk about. "I see."

"Whilst we're there, we might as well see if there's any files that could help us." Lukas continued.

This came as a surprise. Arthur would have thought Lukas would have disapproved of 'liberating' anything else from the Vice Principal. "You're thinking of taking more?"

"I trust Aurel to do it with more discretion than Eduard." He answered, coolly.

Arthur supposed he could agree with Lukas on that. He nodded. "When is he planning on doing it?"

"The Vice Principal heads to dinner at half-past five. He wants to do it then."

Half-past five... That left half an hour before Arthur was to meet with Eoghan and the others again in dorm 130. He paused to chew this over for a moment. "I'll come with you. I'm sure the two of you could use an extra pair of eyes... And arms."

Lukas's expression remained plain, but his eyes brightened up a bit at that; he seemed relieved, almost, at the proposition.

"But, afterwards, I'll be going to meet with some of the others who are helping me." Arthur continued. "You and Aurel should come, as well – and if we take along anything from the archives, we may have something to work with."

Lukas nodded. "In that case, I hope we find something."

Once his guitar was stowed back under his bed in his dorm room, Arthur set back out to find Elise. Doing so wasn't difficult; as soon as he'd entered the library, he found her leaning on the front desk, talking to Iryna. Their conversation didn't appear to have been very deep; as soon as Arthur approached Elise, she only gave Iryna an off-hand goodbye, receiving an equally brief one from the librarian herself, who was preoccupied with labelling more boxes.

"How was Music class?" Elise asked, leading him down a row of bookcases to one of the secluded seating areas.

"Good." He replied, feeling a little impatient. He hadn't come to meet her just for a friendly chat, after all.

She smiled up at him. "You'll have to play for me, some time."

Upon catching a glimpse of her expression in the corner of his eye, he looked quickly away, feeling the tips of his ears blushing. He was so used to performing just to passers-by, or in a group of others in class, that the concept of playing alone to just one person was harrowing. "I'll think about it."

Elise chuckled, "Is that a no?"

Knitting his brow, Arthur glanced towards her again. "It's a maybe. Look, there's a reason we're here, isn't there?"

Saying that wiped the smile off her face; because of which, he couldn't help but feel remarkably guilty. She nodded, and made her way to one of the chairs nearby, taking a seat. He did the same.

After inhaling a deep breath, Elise sighed. "Arthur, I don't think I've been entirely honest with you."

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, asking with a bit of a sardonic undertone, "Really?"

"It's a long story." She said, looking him straight in the eye. "I'll have to start from the beginning."

He gave a nod, silently asking her to go ahead. After she'd acknowledged this, her eyes panned back down to the floor.

"I never knew much about Gregory." She began. "He was here a year before I was. We never really spoke. But a few months back, Antonio and I went to the dorms after class to find Francis. We were going to do some homework together that evening. Francis told us to meet in the boys' common room, but we waited in their for half an hour after he was due to meet us. Antonio wondered if he'd forgotten, so he suggested we go to his dorm to find him. So, we went to the room Gregory and Francis shared – which is now yours – and we heard them arguing." She paused, frowning. "I mean, they did bicker a lot, but this was a real argument; they were shouting at the top of their lungs... And Francis isn't the type to get so angry, so it was scary..."

Arthur understood that, though he wasn't sure what the point of her telling him this was, at the time. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"Knowing this, and worried that they'd been physically fighting, Antonio banged on the door and demanded it to be open. It's a surprise all the noise didn't attract much attention, but everyone else was either at dinner or in the common rooms at that time. Francis opened the door and Antonio burst in. Thankfully, no one was hurt, like he'd suspected, but he started shouting at Gregory straight away, demanding to know what he'd done to make Francis so angry." She shook her head, sighing. "It goes without saying that it didn't help much. I remember shutting the door and standing by it, out of the way. Gregory looked like he'd been cornered, and Antonio wouldn't calm down until he got an explanation out of him." Her eyes flickered back upwards, and she drew in another breath. "Francis had found out about Gregory's plan, and that was what he was arguing with him about. That was how we learnt about it. But... Gregory made us swear to secrecy. Antonio didn't want to, of course, but Francis said it was for the best."

Arthur took a moment to take her story in. "So, Francis was aware of Gregory's plan to cause an uprising, and he opposed it?"

"Yeah." Elise's gaze remained locked on him. "For the same reason I do."

"You don't want people to get hurt." He stated, in a mutter.

"I kept my promise to Gregory and said nothing about it. But, initially, even though Francis and Antonio thought the idea was ludicrous and that it was all a death trap, I..." She sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping. "I had hope. I thought everything would be okay, and I thought maybe – just maybe – Gregory would pull it off... Maybe we wouldn't have to be made into soldiers... Maybe we could all go home." She leant forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her next words came in a strained mutter, "And then he was shot."

It was perfectly understandable – Elise had held onto a small glint of hope and it had seemingly shattered at the loss of a life. That made sense, and that was one of his questions answered, but there was still something else regarding the subject that was nagging at him – something that didn't quite fit with what he'd thought so far.

"And Francis, Antonio and yourself were the only three that knew of this?" He asked. Judging by how surprised Alfred, Lukas and Aurel had been when he'd presented the idea of an uprising to them, he didn't think Gregory's plan had ended up being common knowledge throughout the Academy, though at some point, he had let Eoghan, Sean, Daffyd and Eduard know what he was doing.

She lifted her head, nodding. "That's why I said I wasn't entirely honest with you."

"I suppose that's why you were so quick to realise it wasn't just a coincidence that I ended up here." He didn't know whether to feel relieved or not, but he certainly felt a little better for her explanation. Now, if there was anything of use in the Vice Principal's archives, the day would have proved a productive one. "I wonder, though... Is there really no way to change your mind?"

Elise stared at him, looking as if she didn't know whether to snap at him in anger, or burst out laughing. Realising he'd practically said that without thinking – without really considering her feelings – he recoiled a bit, spluttering an apology.

She kept her expression neutral, merely smiling lightly and shaking her head. "I know. You mean well, Arthur, but I can't agree with you on this. The rogues killed Gregory, and just when we thought they'd been removed from Pangaea, they shot Jovan, too. However the hell they're getting here, they're here all the same." Her smile spread a little, but the sadness in her eyes was plain to see. "Staying with the program is the safest option we have."

She sounded so sure, he thought; so adamant that it indeed was going to be safer to go along with what the Academy wanted of them and become 'ANGELS'. He didn't know what was the safer option, were he entirely honest with himself – after all, despite the fact he was carrying out his plan, Gregory had died whilst crossing over. The rogues were just one more thing to think about, but right now he couldn't do that – right now he was talking to Elise, to a kind-hearted girl who only wanted the best for anyone and everyone, and it wasn't pleasant to think he had to oppose her ideals, but he had made too many promises to others; he had practically sworn on Gregory's memory that he'd overthrow the program and release the students of their so-called 'fate'.

All he could do was suppose they weren't going to see eye-to-eye on the matter any time soon.

Arthur shifted forward in his seat, surprising himself more than Elise when he – albeit with a little bit of reluctance – outstretched his hand towards hers', taking one from where they were folded in her lap and giving it a firm hold. He didn't know what he was doing, at first, and he faltered when she gazed up at him again, but he didn't let go, as unlike him as such an affectionate gesture was.

"Elise..." He muttered. "I'm going to give you a reason to have hope again. I promise you."

Surprised, be it from his words or his actions or from both, she parted her lips a little, her eyes wide and glossy. She then, without looking away from him, took his hand between both of her own, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Then all I hope is that you stay safe."

And all he hoped was that from holding onto his hand, she couldn't tell how hard his heart was beating.

* * *

Konstantin almost never went to the shared common room, simply because he had no reason to do so, usually. With it being somewhere that both male and female students could congregate together despite the opposite gender being allowed in the other's common room so long as they were with a friend, the shared common room was only ever used by student couples. It was fairly private, and there being only other couples there, they could go ahead and do what would otherwise be considered as 'public displays of affection'. Or, so was the generally accepted idea. When Konstantin had been there with Svetlana during the time they were together, he'd never found it a comfortable atmosphere; he certainly wasn't happy about having to go back for a much different reason, although the meeting place being said common room was the very least of his worries.

Adéla had said she had nothing to do with the blackmail, and that voice that spoke to him on the phone was most certainly _not _her voice (nor was it Vavrinec's). Even so, regardless of who the hell it had been, the blackmailer had Konstantin trapped. The 'dire consequences' hadn't been spelt out for him, but he had a hunch he knew what the person at the other end of the phone line had said when he'd spoken of 'someone very close' to Konstantin. If the blackmailer hadn't meant Svetlana, there was only really one other person that anyone could readily assume was close to Konstantin – and that was Aurel. And oh, he was beyond pissed off at the thought that anyone would be so damned callous as to use Aurel's safety and wellbeing as a threat against him, but he couldn't risk it. With such little knowledge of the vague threats, he couldn't risk anything; the phone was even stowed away in his pocket, as he'd been told to do.

When he threw open the doors of the common room and stormed inside, he startled the few pairs of students that were present. The entire room was still and silent, all heads turned towards him at once, which he usually wouldn't appreciate, but then and there, he didn't care. Frowning, he scanned each of the faces briefly, until he found one that wasn't staring blankly and was, instead, smiling as if pleasantly surprised. Adéla was alone, on the far side of the room, resting against a window pane. She said nothing, but cocked her head, beckoning him over.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming." She said, spreading her lips into a thin smirk, her eyebrows quirking.

He didn't think much of the almost obnoxious tone of voice she was using – that was normal for her. There was no point in him bringing up the blackmail over the phone; given what the voice had told him, he dared not speak of it to anyone – not even Adéla, who he'd made aware of the note.

After striding across the room, he halted a good few yards away from her. "Cut the crap!" He spat, half-noticing the other students in the room pretending that they were going back to minding their own business (whilst they were actually, not very subtly, keeping their attention on both he and Adéla).

The Czech woman tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, if you insist. What is it, then? Yes or no?"

She already knew the answer. He could see it in her eyes, and he hated it. And what was worse was that they weren't alone in that room. He couldn't say he had no choice. He couldn't say anything that would refer to her demands, or the blackmail. All he could say, his gaze hard and his voice cold, was simply, "Yes."

Adéla grinned so wide that her eyes narrowed into slits. She turned back towards the window, chuckling, "I look forward to it."

And that was that. He wouldn't have wanted to linger in the shared common room were he even in a good mood, especially not with all eyes fixed on him like that. He turned and headed for the doors, leaving the room as quiet as it had been when he'd first entered. Once the doors had shut firmly behind him, he wondered what was next. He didn't feel like doing any homework (but there wasn't much else new there), yet he couldn't stand the idea of merely curling up in his dorm room and wallowing in self pity, either. Stepping out from the corridor and into the waning sunlight of the afternoon, he came to the conclusion that he needed to talk to someone – even if he had to completely avoid the topic that was bothering him.

The infirmary waiting room had, to his misfortune, more occupants than usual. Mrs. Hassan was knelt in front of the Latvian delegate, a small blonde sophomore who looked a good few years younger than he actually was. He was whimpering, though Konstantin wasn't sure whether it was because Mrs. Hassan was holding his foot and was moving it gently (clearly to see if it was sprained or not) or because Ivan was sat on his right with his hand on his head in what was probably the Russian's idea of comforting. Konstantin wasn't sure which reason made him feel more sorry for the Latvian.

Ivan was the first to spot him. "Hello, Kosta!" He said, smiling warmly. "Did you come to see Jovan?"

"Yeah." He replied, glancing at Mrs. Hassan. He would need her approval, before he could enter the ward.

"I came to see Jovan too." Ivan continued. "But then Raivis came in hurt." He seemed to be pushing down on the Latvian's head at that moment, making the younger boy whine. Konstantin winced inwardly, hoping Raivis's neck wasn't going to crack under that weight.

"You're fine to go in." Mrs. Hassan said, glancing up at Konstantin briefly.

"Thanks." He stepped around her, grateful he didn't have to sit and wait whilst Ivan made Raivis anything but comfortable.

He found Jovan at the same bed at the end of the silent ward, alone. The last time Konstantin had visited, Tino had also been in the ward; he guessed it must have been pretty boring and lonely, having to stay confined to the ward, in particular for someone like Jovan, who'd been so loud and energetic before the rogue incident.

"S'up, _bre_?" The Serb muttered, looking at Konstantin for a moment before staring blankly out of the window, as he had done up until he'd been approached.

Konstantin now didn't know who he felt the most sorry for – Jovan, Raivis, or himself. He sat down, perched on the edge of the next bed along, releasing a heavy sigh.

"'What's up'?" He half-laughed, bitterly, as he raked a hand backwards through his hair. "I wouldn't know where to begin to answer that. So, let's not go there."

"Yeah, it's not like I'm your therapist or anything." Jovan snorted.

Konstantin leant forward again, shaking his head slightly for a moment. "How are you doing?"

Jovan continued to stare out of the window. "How's it look like I'm doing? Put it this way – I'll be doing better tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"I leave for the training facility tonight." He replied, without faltering. "And they're gonna operate on my leg there, and I'll be able to walk unaided again."

Konstantin had almost forgotten Jovan was crossing over. "_Tonight_?" He repeated.

Jovan peered over at him with an eyebrow raised. "That's what I said, _bre_. In fact, Lana just went to pack for me not long ago. She should be back soon."

With all that was going on, Konstantin didn't want any more reason to feel like shit. But there were only days left now until Jovan turned nineteen. Perhaps it was better he got it over with sooner, rather than later. It was just as well Konstantin had visited when he did; he could imagine Jovan leaving without saying goodbye, otherwise.

Konstantin didn't realise he was frowning until Jovan chuckled, "What's with the long face? I thought you'd be glad to get rid of me."

"I just..." He winced inwardly at the words that appeared in his head, but managed to mutter them out, regardless. "I'll miss you."

As he had expected, Jovan was silent for a single moment before he burst out laughing. "Shit, son, could you _be _any more of a sap!?"

Konstantin rubbed at his forehead. He'd expected that response. "You're an asshole."

"What else is new?"

"Do you talk to Lana like that, when she says she'll miss you?"

"First of all, you're not my girlfriend. Second of all, she doesn't say things like that."

Konstantin lowered his hand, giving Jovan a hard stare. "Probably because she knows you'd laugh at her like that."

Jovan grunted, shaking his head a bit. He then reached his arm out, patting Konstantin on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's not fight right now. Wanna take a walk?"

"Can you?"

The Serb nodded, pulling the crutch on the other side of the bed towards him. He shuffled around, carefully, until his feet were touching the floor; then, using the crutch for support, he pushed off the bed. "I'm allowed, so long as there's someone with me. Might as well make use of the fact you're here." He placed his free hand on the small of his back, pressing forward and cracking it. "I'm turning into a fossil lyin' 'round here all day."

"What about Lana?" Konstantin asked, standing up as well. "Didn't you say she was coming back here?"

Jovan snorted. "'Lana this', 'Lana that'. If we go to the dorms, we'll find her on the way." He started to hobble along. "C'mon, Kosta, get your ass in gear!"

Konstantin didn't argue, and he stepped across the ward, overtaking Jovan only to open the doors for him. Upon their exit, Mrs. Hassan looked up towards them from where she was now wrapping Raivis's ankle in bandages.

"How far are you planning to go?" She asked.

"Just around the quad. That's fine, right?" Jovan answered.

The Egyptian woman looked vaguely concerned, but turned her attention promptly back to wrapping the bandages regardless. "Be careful."

Jovan said nothing more to her. Instead, he glanced over at Ivan, who still hadn't moved from his spot next to Raivis. "Ivan!" Beaming, he moved over to the seats, lowering himself into the one on the Russian's free side.

"Hello, _brat_." Ivan replied, smiling as well.

"Hey, you know I'm leaving today, right?" It was remarkable, how much more pleasant and sociable Jovan was towards Ivan, as opposed to most other people. "Remember, I told you the other day?"

Ivan took his hand off Raivis's head and turned towards Jovan, now beginning to frown. Raivis whimpered, though it might well have been in relief.

"I know." Ivan looked as if he was about to hang his head for a moment, but didn't. Instead, he smiled broadly again, before opening his arms and pulling Jovan into a tight embrace. "I'll miss you!"

The fact that Jovan laughed and hugged him back and said, "I'll miss you too" didn't do much to make Konstantin feel better, after having been spurned for saying the exact same thing as Ivan had. Jovan seemed to be fighting for his breath by the end of it, however; Ivan certainly wasn't weak when it came to upper body strength. They said their goodbyes, and Jovan pulled himself back to his feet with the crutch, motioning over to Konstantin for him to follow again.

Konstantin had initially decided not to say anything, but when he had walked with him down the corridor and out of the Infirmary area, a question did come to mind. "Do they expect you to walk the whole way?"

"Huh? Oh, nah. Think they're bringing a car up, or somethin'." Jovan was back to his half-hearted manner of speaking. "Kinda defeats the tradition of walking there though."

"It's not like you have much of a choice." Konstantin shrugged.

Jovan snorted. "Yeah, you're right about that, _bre. _I'd rather not go out in such a dull style, but, eh – what can ya do? Mrs. Hassan says I'm lucky I'm not in a Goddamn wheelchair."

Konstantin supposed that was pretty lucky; Jovan would have easily been twice as pissed off – at least – had he been wheelchair-bound as a result of his injury.

"Ah, what's it matter, anyway? The important thing is, I'm gonna be able to walk again. And soon." He lowered his voice, and chuckled, though it didn't sound too happy. "And, hey, maybe then I can kick your ass at tennis again, someday."

That wasn't going to be possible. Konstantin knew that, and he knew that Jovan knew that. His words were just sentimental, perhaps – well, as sentimental as Jovan could get, anyway.

"I thought you told me to find a new opponent."

"Yeah, you should. For the meantime. I don't want you to lose your touch, even if you still suck ass in comparison to me."

_Typical Jovan_, Konstantin thought. But that thought itself brought a slight smile to his face. Even if his so-called rival was leaving that night, even with everything that had happened between them, his words – somehow – were comforting. Being around him, walking with him, arguing with him, volleying insults and teasing one another; it was normalcy, it was solace – it was _home_.

"Jovan?"

The Serb stopped by the back doors of the foyer, turning to look at him, one of his eyebrows raised slightly. "Yeah?"

Konstantin, knowing from that reaction that Jovan had picked up on the emotion lingering in his tone of voice. All the same, he continued to smile weakly. "Don't ever change."

There was a moment that followed in which Jovan paused, his eyes pensive. He then broke away from his gaze, lightly exhaling through his nose. "Ah, _bre_. I won't. I promise."

* * *

Notes:

(1) – Turkish poetry, published in 1936.

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated, and I'm very sorry for the length of time this chapter took. Thanks for reading!

_-Lusky._


	18. XVIII

A/N: Very sorry for the wait again, guys! But this chapter took not one, but _two _rewrites, because my laptop ate both of the original copies! Words can't express my anger, aaaagh! But that's water under the bridge, and here it is – chapter eighteen!

**-MedusaLegend and Jalur Gemilang: **Thanks a lot! I'm glad you took the time to read, and I hope that both of you will continue to follow the story in the future!

* * *

_**XVIII.**_

Aurel and Lukas had instructed Arthur to patrol the landing end of the upstairs corridor of the foyer building, in their mission to safely return the maps to Germania's archives, and to also perhaps see what else was in there that could be of use to them. It wasn't Arthur's ideal way of biding his time, but he had offered his help earlier that day, and someone needed to keep an eye on the staircase... He just wasn't sure exactly how he was going to talk a member of staff out of going down the corridor, should the situation arise. That was his greatest concern, and he was honestly nervous at the notion of it... Them sneaking through the foyer past Mrs. Karpusi and getting upstairs had racked his nerves in the first place. At least in such a quiet place, Lukas – who was at the other end of the corridor and guarding Aurel in the archive room directly – would hear his voice, should he have to dish out any excuses off the top of his head towards a teacher. He could buy them time in that respect, as suspicious as it would have looked.

Arthur exhaled, trying to calm himself down a little. Standing at the end of the corridor was wearing thin on his patience... He must've only had twenty minutes until the three of them needed to go to room 130 and meet with Eoghan and the others, and he didn't want to be late... Though, at the same time, he hoped they'd find something in the archives they could work with during the meeting, and if Aurel needed the extra time to do so correctly, then that was that. Deciding to stretch his legs and perhaps clear his mind a bit, he began to pace down the corridor.

The walk didn't ease his nerves as much as he had hoped. Although he thought less about the task at hand, there was an uneasy atmosphere about that area of the school. He had noticed when he had first gone there to speak to Germania that it had seemed like a hospital corridor, and it was like the Academy completely ended at the landing area above the staircase, and the rest of the upstairs level was a different location entirely.

Part of the reason it probably felt like a different place was because of the various paintings that donned the walls of the corridor. There was no such décor elsewhere in the Academy – it was as if that corridor in particular was a gallery dedicated to those pictures. Several of the paintings depicted the Academy building from the front, others were of the huge, block-like riverside structure that was easily identifiable as the United Nations Headquarters in New York. None of these really took Arthur's interest much at all... But there was one painting in particular that did.

Amongst all the landscape depictions of the Academy and the U.N., towards the end of the corridor, there was a single portrait hanging on one of the walls. The portrait stood out quite prominently and took Arthur by surprise when he came across it; he hadn't noticed it when he'd first walked the corridor a few weeks or so before (though he thought perhaps he hadn't really been paying much attention to the paintings at all during that time, as he was still trying to get his bearings around the school). But that, and the fact that it was the only portrait picture, weren't the factors that made it exceptionally striking. No, what made the image stand out to him was _who _the portrait was of.

It was a middle-aged man he didn't recognise. He had very little hair on his head, a sullen, shrunken face and a crooked nose, large ears that curled over at the top and eyes that were rounded and almost bulging out of their sockets. It wasn't a very flattering portrait, and that was without counting the drab oil colours used, and why anyone would want a picture of said man – whom Arthur thought looked very much like an alien – on display, was beyond him... Until he read the small plaque at the bottom of the frame, that was.

_**'Clinton Pane, Academy Project Founder and Directorate'**_

Arthur almost didn't believe it – that man in that portrait was Clinton Pane? He hadn't really thought of what the man may have looked like in his head, but by no means had he imagined he would look so... _Creepy. _But whatever he looked like was irrelevant – he must have been considered extremely important to the Academy project before his death, if there was a portrait of him kept in the school. Arthur mulled it over in his mind... He had a hunch that this picture could well have been a clue – although, he wasn't really sure how. How could a portrait alone help in the puzzle he was trying to piece together, even if it was of Clinton Pane?

"What's wrong? Having a staring contest with the portrait?"

It was only when Lukas's voice asked this that Arthur broke out of his daze and realised that, indeed, he had been staring into the man's eyes, as if they'd entranced him. He shook it off and quickly brought himself back to reality.

"Clinton Pane, Lukas! It's him!" He exclaimed in a more animated motion than he would have liked to, turning to the Norwegian.

Lukas didn't look nearly as startled, but he raised his eyebrows all the same. He moved nearer towards the painting and examined the plaque. "Hm... So it is. I never realised."

"Never realised!? All this time I've spent looking through the library and what have you with absolutely no luck on finding any information on him or his project, and his _bloody portrait _is up here, just hanging on the wa-"

"_Shh_." Lukas frowned. "Keep your voice down. I've hardly been up here before. Neither has Aurel, and it's probably the same for everyone else you've asked for help. Besides." He nodded towards the portrait. "I don't think anyone would want to look at him for long enough to find out his name. I'm surprised you could bear it."

"I just..." Arthur lowered his voice until it was just a mumble. "There's something strange about the picture..."

A few short moments of quiet followed. During which, Lukas turned towards the painting, his expression as dull as usual but his eyes alight with interest; he was examining it and looking for what was so odd about it, as Arthur had done just before.

In fact, Arthur was sure Lukas would say something compelling when he'd finished, but all he said was, "He looks like an alien."

"...I suppose he does a bit." Arthur replied, trying not to sound too disappointed with Lukas's perspective there. If anyone could have see anything 'unworldly' about the image, surely it would have been the student who had claimed he was able to see ghosts. But Arthur supposed there was very little evidence to be found in it – after all, it was just a painting.

"Let's switch posts." Lukas said, in a slightly condescending manner that Arthur suspected actually meant 'since you're not going to hold down the fort, I'd better do it'. He took his leave then, heading up the corridor. "Aurel's probably knee-deep in archive papers by now."

Arthur put his thoughts about the painting to one side, not giving it a second look before turning to the waiting area outside of the Vice Principal's office and walking across it to the open door of the archive room. He recalled initially wondering upon his first visit to that part of the school what had been behind that door... But now that question was answered, he couldn't help wondering what was behind the _other _door of the corridor – the one directly opposite the office, that Lars had emerged from that day he'd come to talk to Germania. All that aside, the archives were the best place to find evidence right now.

The archive room itself was small and rather cramped. It was filled with rows of filing cabinets which, whilst neatly set out, were tightly packed in the room. The only source of light was a pendant bulb hanging from the ceiling; there were no windows... It was a cupboard, more than anything. Aurel was at the far end, looking though an open cabinet gently; taking a folder out and then extracting the paper inside with the tips of his fingers, as if he were handling negatives for photographs and didn't want them damaged in any way. His brow was knitted together; he seemed deeply focused on scanning through the papers. Arthur didn't know whether to consider this a good thing or not – he didn't think they had the time to take in very many details.

"Aurel, are you almost d-"

"Do you mind? I'm reading." Aurel said promptly, before Arthur could finish his sentence. He didn't take his eyes off the file in hand, even as he motioned with his head in Arthur's direction. "There's a few papers I've found that may be of use to you by the door."

Though he was slightly annoyed by Aurel's response there, Arthur looked around for a moment, until his eyes caught sight of a small pile of papers on top of the cabinet next to the doorway. He reached up and took them down. Well, it was a start – not exactly the 'knee deep' pile that Lukas had said would have been found, but he'd figured that was an exaggeration in the first place.

The first paper in the stack was a blueprint, constructed in the same manner as the blueprints in the Technology class's textbook were. Arthur had to wonder if the poor lighting was playing tricks on his eyes, when he examined the three diagrams on the page. From the looks of it, the blueprint was a guide on how to construct something – and really, Arthur couldn't describe what it was off the top of his head – that was intended to be attached to the arm... By the looks of things, anyway, as the third depiction of the strange lozenge-shaped item was of it placed on the side of an arm, a few inches beneath the shoulder. Was it a weapon? He'd never seen anything like it in his Technology textbook, even though the blueprints were set out the same... Perhaps it was intended to be part of the textbook, but was removed. What was its purpose, then? He gave it another quick look over, his eyes scanning for any detail that might have stood out and given an explanation, but his attention was taken again when he heard very fast footsteps resounding down the corridor.

His heart sank, and he looked up quickly. Seeing that it was only Lukas, he was a little relieved... But, why was Lukas running? That question was quickly answered; though Lukas said nothing, he darted into the archive room, almost knocking Arthur off his feet upon doing so, and instantly shut the door behind himself (with great care, so as not to slam it). The Norwegian then flicked the light switch off.

"_Heeeey_!" Aurel's voice whined from the other side of the now pitch-black room.

"_Shhh_!" Lukas hissed.

Arthur, startled as he was now, had opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but remained silent upon the hushing. He kept a firm grip on the papers in his hand, turning around and getting his bearings back in the dark; easy enough, considering the hall outside was still lit up, and said light was pooling past the borders of the door, and through the unlocked keyhole – which Lukas, after kneeling down, was now peering through.

The silence was tense, but it seemed very necessary. Arthur didn't exactly know what was going on, but he watched Lukas regardless, hoping he might get an answer from him somehow. Luckily, he did.

"It's Germania. And Ludwig." The Norwegian whispered, pressing his eye closer to the keyhole.

Arthur's heart having sank before, it had now jumped up into his throat. "W-What!?" He stammered, albeit as quietly as possible. "Then why have you trapped us in he-"

"Wait. _Wait_." Lukas interrupted him. "...They've stopped... How come they're...?" His volume was still low; he seemed to be talking to himself more than to Arthur. "Ah..."

Arthur found it difficult to hear the Norwegian, over the sound of how hard his blood was pumping in his chest and head. What if Germania found them in the archives? There was no means of escape whatsoever... He could only hope the Vice Principal would be merciful. Mentally, he scolded himself; if he hadn't have left his post at the top of the staircase, they would have had time to stick to their original plan of abortion.

The eye Lukas had hovering next to the keyhole suddenly went wide. He said nothing; he didn't even make an involuntary gasping noise, though Arthur could tell that something out there had taken him by surprise, and it was then that his concern about being caught eased down. Lukas seemed to be more fascinated than worried, and the longer his silence continued, the longer Arthur had to calm his nerves and level his head... And it wasn't long after that until he felt impatient, wanting to know what on Earth was going on out there. Hearing the deep, albeit muffled voices that surely belonged to Germania and Ludwig didn't help, either – he tried to tune into what they were saying, over what was otherwise silence, but it then became apparent that they were speaking German. Without anyone else in the conversation, of course a father and son from Germany would speak their native tongue with one another, as frustrating as said fact was... Arthur couldn't help but wonder if Lukas spoke German, or could at least tell what they were saying.

Eventually, the Norwegian shifted from his spot again; though minutes must have passed. Dull footsteps and the sound of clunking metal drifted off in the distance – said metal sound no doubt belonging to the Vice Principal's armour. Arthur's eyes remained on Lukas, who exhaled, more than likely in relief – making the first noise to break the silence once again.

"They're gone?" Arthur asked, as Lukas moved to flick the light switch. "What were they doing?"

As soon as the light returned to the room, he saw the Norwegian's expression in full. It didn't just seem like he was taken aback any more, his expression told Arthur that what he'd seen out there had surprised him... And that was saying something; rarely did Lukas's expression ever tell anyone anything.

"You're not going to believe me, if I tell you." Lukas replied, returning the eye contact with Arthur as soon as he began to speak. "I'll have to show you."

"Show me?" Arthur repeated, confused. Of all the answers he could have gotten from Lukas, he hadn't expected that one. "Show me _what,_ precisely?"

"I just told you. You're not going to believe me if I tell you."

"Yes, yes! You two go ahead and do that!" Aurel piqued up from where he was still stood by the open cabinet. He waved his free hand at them in a dismissive motion. "And I'd appreciate a warning next time you decide to shut off the light."

Lukas raised an eyebrow at him. "Next time we leave the light on, _you _can take the blame for us, if we're found out."

He opened the door and stepped back out into the waiting area. The coast was completely clear by now; not a student or staff member in sight, just as it had been before. Arthur followed him, and they walked back past the seats to the end of the corridor – to the portrait of Clinton Pane they'd been stood in front of before.

"You said there was something strange about this portrait." Lukas said. His countenance and tone of voice were now back to normal, but there was a twinkle in his eye; like he was somehow excited, though Arthur couldn't fathom why, at first. "Well, you were right." The Norwegian's eyes glanced down the hallway once, as if to just double-check that no one else was around, before he reached up, his fingers clutching the right-hand side of the picture's frame.

"W-What are you-" Arthur began, but he didn't have time to finish his enquiry before it was answered; before he was very promptly awestruck.

Lukas pulled on the portrait and, in one clean movement of his arm, had swung it open like a door. And indeed, that's what it appeared to be – a door – because what was behind it was a large, iron block with a dial in its centre. A _safe_, judging by its appearance. Arthur's eyes went wide; oh yes, he'd thought something was off about the portrait, but for it to have been hiding a safe behind it was remarkable.

"Germania opened it. He took out a case." Lukas said. "But judging by its size, there might be more inside. I couldn't see from that angle, though."

Arthur nodded, pausing to think for a moment. "When you say a 'case'...?"

Lukas lifted his shoulders to shrug. "It was metal. Bigger than a briefcase, I'd say. I can't guess what it was for."

"We use the metal cases like that in Technology class." Arthur said, mostly to himself. "Ah, well, never mind that, right now. You really think there could be more inside?"

"I expect it's a form of reverse psychology." Lukas answered, with a nod of the head. "You'd think something similar in the Principal or Vice Principal's office would be a more obvious hiding place for anything either of them would want stashing." A faint smile crossed his face as he turned towards Arthur again. "What say you? You wanted information on Clinton Pane, didn't you? We could take a look inside."

"Just because a portrait of Clinton Pane is hanging in front of a safe, doesn't mean the contents will have anything to do with him." Arthur replied, folding his arms. "Besides, I'm not sure I like the idea of snooping around and 'liberating' anything more that doesn't belong to us. Oh! And you're forgetting one rather important thing." He jabbed his finger at the safe's dial. "We don't have the code."

The Norwegian snorted a little in response. "I think _you're _forgetting we have the guy who got us into the archives with us, still. Give Aurel five minutes, ten at most, and he'll have it open."

Arthur was still sceptical. "I don't exactly have ten minutes to spare. _We _don't, actually; I assume you're still coming along to the meeting, aren't you?"

Lukas nodded. "Room 130, right? If you want to go ahead, Aurel and I will catch up with you when we're done." He motioned to the papers Arthur was still holding on to. "You've got something to discuss already, at least."

"I suppose so." Still not wholly convinced, Arthur sighed a little. "Alright, I'll be off, then. But, if you do manage to open the safe, and you do manage to find anything in it-"

"We'll bring it along if it's useful, leave it alone if it's not."

Shaking his head, Arthur turned to go back down the corridor. "I'll trust you to do so, then."

By the time he'd said a brief goodbye to Lukas and was back on his way, he did suppose that what the two other students were doing for him was helpful, even if they were just taking a look inside the safe, just to check if there was anything useful in there, even if potentially there wasn't. This in mind, once he was back downstairs and sneaking past Mrs. Karpusi, he felt a little bad for having left without showing any gratitude; he'd done much the opposite and revoked Lukas's idea at first, actually.

He supposed that when they came by Room 130 that evening, he'd have to give them a proper thank you.

* * *

Jovan had been right and, indeed, a car had been brought up from the town. It was parked halfway across the southern field; the gates were open, and the soldiers from the facility were stood on guard. Asides from the fact that Germania was no where in sight, the scene was that of someone crossing over.

Konstantin had watched students leave through the southern gates several times before, but now that it was Jovan – his friend and rival that he had both loved and hated – he couldn't help the feeling of sadness in the pit of his stomach. They might not have always gotten along, but he wondered if everything else was going to be as easy without Jovan around; he certainly didn't want to admit it to himself, but his initial thought about what had happened with Adéla and the cellphone was to seek out Jovan, even if he couldn't tell him exactly what was going on... He felt like he needed the Serb, as annoying and as brash and as unsentimental as he was, for a kind of emotional support, in a way. Aurel was his best friend, and there were other students that probably could have given Konstantin far better advice to aid with his problems. But his relationship with Jovan was different from those; Jovan was his opposite, but he was also his equal. They knew each other like brothers; they stood at opposite ends of a spectrum, yet were also like two sides of the same coin. He was now only starting to let this fact sink in, as they stood together at the very top of the grassy hill, overlooking the field below... He'd taken his relationship with Jovan so... _For granted_. They'd argued, they'd fought, and yet they'd pulled together and – mere weeks ago – had stood side-by-side and stared death in the eye.

Jovan had said that he owed Konstantin his life for what had happened during their fight with the rogues, but really, Konstantin was sure that if either of them had been alone that day, they would have been killed.

The sunlight disappeared behind the western wall, casting long, dark shadows across the Academy grounds and painting the sky above a brilliant orange. Konstantin turned to Jovan, as the Serb inhaled a deep breath of the evening air through his nose.

"Happy birthday, by the way." Konstantin said, as plainly as he could. "For the 10th."

Jovan snickered, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder with his crutch-less arm. "Guess we've no time left for a party, huh?"

"We'll have one in the common room on Monday in your honour." He joked.

"Yeah? And how many d'ya suspect'd turn out at that?"

"There'd be me, and Lana... Aurel would come, too... Maybe even Krešimir, if he could be convinced."

"Hah! Krešo wouldn't come to a party held for me if there was all the Goddamn booze in the world there!"

Konstantin couldn't help but laugh half-heartedly. They were chatting now about such frivolous things; perhaps Jovan wanted to, so as to take his mind off what he was about to do. That was understandable, and for the time being, it even took Konstantin's mind off of his own troubles.

"Hey, _bre_..." Jovan said. "Would you help me down the slope? I don't think I can do it otherwise, without fallin' head first down it like a fuckin' moron."

He did as he asked of him, allowing the Serb to put his free arm over his shoulder whilst he held him up for balance, moving down in careful steps.

"Next you'll be wanting me to carry you down like a baby."

"Ah, shut the fuck up, _bre_. Next time you see me, I'll be back to normal."

He let him go again when they'd reached level ground. Jovan glanced straight towards the black-clad soldiers across the field, and instinctively, Konstantin did the same.

"Huh. Guess I'm waiting for Lana and Germania and that'll be that." Jovan said. "Well, the sooner the better. My arm and leg're aching like a bitch." He rolled the shoulder of the arm holding his crutch, squinting as he cracked it.

And wait they did. The sky grew darker, and the lights of the buildings in use began to switch on one by one. With the sun long gone, there was little to act as a light source on the field. Yet it wasn't long at all, actually, before both of the people they'd been waiting for arrived.

Germania approached first, though Svetlana was merely yards behind him, tugging a suitcase along with her. Germania also had a case with him, though it was metal and much smaller; Konstantin doubted it was one containing any of Jovan's personal belongings.

"Come to the car." Was all the Vice Principal said, gruffly, as he passed them, heading over in that direction himself.

Instead of doing as was ordered immediately, Jovan turned to Svetlana, as she continued to hurry towards them.

"Everything's packed." She said, when she'd slowed to a halt in front of them. There was a meek smile on her face. "You're ready now, right?"

Jovan didn't answer. Instead of saying anything, he used his free arm to pull her into an abrupt hug around the shoulders. She stumbled forward into his body, letting go of the suitcase. The action seemed to have surprised her; she became quite rigid. Jovan's demeanour, however, softened; he still said nothing, though he moved the hand around her shoulders to the back of her head, pressing her face into his shoulder. Konstantin was made uncomfortable when this happened, but he didn't back away, or say anything, or even move off the spot; he merely looked elsewhere – towards the car and the soldiers and Germania.

"You're good to me." Jovan muttered, after a few moments of quiet had passed. When Konstantin took another look at them, he saw he was playing with her hair, stroking through it with the tips of his fingers.

"Because you are to me." Svetlana's voice emerged quietly from the shoulder she was leaning against.

He gently pushed her away, staring at her face for a few prolonged moments. It was difficult for Konstantin to gauge Jovan's expression; it was vacant, but surely he was saddened – in his own manner, of course. Who wouldn't be?

"I'll wait for you." Jovan said, settling his hands either side of Svetlana's face. And with that, he pulled her back towards him, kissing her on the lips.

Konstantin was forced to look away once more.

It seemed like that was a sufficient enough goodbye. They had probably said their farewells in-depth beforehand, and now was the time Jovan had chosen to leave, and so leave he would. The two of them began to approach the part of the field where Germania was waiting, and Konstantin followed after.

Germania reached held an outstretched fist towards Jovan, the moment he stepped forwards. Knowing what was being given to him, Jovan held out his open hand for it. It was a badge of the flag of his delegate country – a necessary symbol all those who crossed over were required to wear on the breast of their uniform.

"This badge signifies your allegiance to the United Nations and willingness to become a representative of both your country and a representative of the Academy project." Germania began the typical speech he gave to every delegate in Jovan's position. "Wearing it symbolises that you are a part of the elite peacekeeping division belonging to the United Nations. Completion of your training will qualify you as a fully-fledged ANGEL. State your name and your delegate country, and repeat your vows."

Jovan lowered his hand, grasping it tightly into a fist around the badge. "Jovan Mladić, Serbia. I pledge allegiance to the United Nations and to the Academy project. As a fully-fledged ANGEL, I am property of the peacekeeping division of the United Nations, and am to serve them to the ability to which the Academy has and the facility will train me."

Germania took a couple of steps to the side, and one of the soldiers opened the back door of the car. Another soldier took the suitcase from next to Svetlana, to place in the then open trunk. Jovan inhaled a deep breath, and took a moment to release it again, before steadily turning to where Svetlana and Konstantin stood. There was a smile on his face; forlorn, but a smile nonetheless.

"Well..." He began, making a mock salute with two fingers. "Until next time! So long; Lana, Kosta."

Svetlana seemed as if she were about to hang her head for a moment, but instead, she folded her hands behind her back, and spoke plainly, matching Jovan's smile with one of her own, "Be safe."

Konstantin swallowed, before adding in a somewhat strained manner, "Goodbye..." He wasn't entirely sure if just a simple 'goodbye' was saying enough, really, but at the same time he didn't know what else to say. There should have been so many things to say to Jovan, but if he couldn't find those words before, he wasn't going to find them all of a sudden, at a moment in time such as that one.

Jovan said nothing more, and soon, he'd managed to climb his way into the back seat of the car. Germania handed the metal case in his possession to one of the soldiers; said soldier then sat on the very far side of the car's back seat. Another solider sat on the opposite side, so that Jovan was seated in-between them. Once all the doors were closed, and the soldier in the driving seat ready, the engine started up, the headlights flickered on, and soon after, the car had pulled down the field towards the open gates.

"It's not the end."

Konstantin looked towards Svetlana, who was still smiling, her eyes locked on the car as it drove out into the dark of the forest, the rear lights getting ever more distant. She didn't return his gaze.

"Yeah, I know..." He sighed, although, were he completely honest with himself, he _didn't _know. What if they never did see Jovan again? There was no telling what lay beyond the forest; what was awaiting them in the facility was a mystery until they went there and found out themselves... All they were hanging onto was _hope_. That was all they had.

The soldiers manning the gate stepped through and heaved the doors of it shut behind them. Whatever was awaiting Jovan, the fact was, he had gone. And Konstantin hadn't thought he would have felt such remorse for him having crossed over, but now there was that feeling of absence adding to his present troubles. He rubbed at his forehead, watching Svetlana again for another couple of seconds. She had barely moved an inch, her back was still straight, her hands still held together behind it, and her face showed no sign of sorrow. Jovan had probably told her not to feel sad. Konstantin recalled her crying the week before, and decided that whether Jovan had indeed said that or not, her staying positive in spite of his absence was for the best.

Germania had long gone, and the two of them were left alone on the field now. The moments of silence continued to roll past, and Konstantin raised his head, looking towards the ever-darkening sky; the stars awakening one by one, little distant flecks of white-gold on the expanse of navy.

"You know... Jovan really appreciates you being his friend." Svetlana said, her voice soft, but the area was still and silent, and so it was easy to hear her words. "He doesn't show it, I know, but he does... And I appreciate it, too."

Though his eyes were on the stars, he listened intently to what she was saying.

"What happened was horrible." She continued, and he could see in the very furthest part of his peripheral vision, she was looking upwards as well. "It hurts me to think of what happened to Jovan in that forest..." Her voice grew a little quieter and more cautious, as if she were afraid someone was listening in on the conversation. "And it must have been awful for you, too, but... Kosta...? I'm glad that you two made up... I'm glad, because Jovan's glad."

Konstantin exhaled deeply through his nose, allowing his eyes to slowly shut. Jovan was happy to have made friends with him again, even if it had been because they'd been fighting for their lives at the time. So he had been right... He really _had_ taken him for granted. He could have worked things out between them so much earlier, instead of waiting until the very last few weeks of Jovan's presence at the Academy... Though Jovan was equally to blame, Konstantin felt like an idiot himself for having let his pride get in the way of everything.

He drew in another breath, deciding he wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Lana?" He asked.

"Hmm?" Her tone cheered up a little.

Konstantin opened his eyes again, and began to examine the sky with a faint smile on his face. "Do you think... The moon and stars are in the right position, tonight?"

"Position? Well, I don't know..." Naturally, she sounded rather confused by the question. "For what?"

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards further. "There's... Someone I have to talk to. And I have to know if the moon and stars are in the right position for it."

She paused, and he was sure he must've somehow sounded crazy, to her. But she seemed to only have paused to think, because not long after, she answered, "I didn't think you were into astrology, Kosta." She chuckled a little, at that. "I know I'm not, really. But, I think... If you've something to say to someone, something important, then the moon and stars should always be in the right position."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

He lowered his head, looking towards her again. She did the same, meeting his gaze, and for a moment when she did so, her eyebrows raised, as if she were pleasantly surprised. She cracked a grin and half-laughed, "What are you smiling about?"

"I just..." He nodded his head, his voice trailing off. "It's nothing... Just, thanks. Thanks for telling me about Jovan."

She wrapped her arms around her waist, and though she didn't look saddened, her smile became melancholic. "You're welcome, Kosta."

* * *

"Nice to see ya, lad." Eoghan said in a welcoming manner, patting Arthur on the back so hard that Arthur was quite sure he was trying to subtly push him inside the room before he shut the door.

Daffyd and Sean were sat on the opposite beds, as they had done the week before. Both of them watched Arthur, but didn't seem nearly as pleased as Eoghan did to see him.

Arthur coughed to clear his throat. "It's nice to see you all, too." He looked around at the three of them in turn; Daffyd first, then Sean, then back to Eoghan, to whom he spoke next. "There's a couple of others coming a little later; they're actually helping right now gathering evidence."

"Sounds good." Eoghan nodded. "Take a seat."

Once Arthur was sat next to Daffyd, and Eoghan next to Sean, that was when the papers that had been collected from the archive room came to attention.

"Myself, as well as Aurel Ionescu and Lukas Bondevik, this evening have been collecting anything we could find of use from the Vice Principal's archives." Arthur began. Saying it like that, he wasn't sure how the three of them would respond; what they had done was stealing, somewhat, after all, even if as Eduard had put it, it could have been considered 'liberating', instead. "Aurel found these blueprints; anyone in the Technology class would recognise this layout is identical to the how the blueprints in the Technology textbook are constructed." He lifted the papers, showing the arm-attachment on the top of the pile to the others.

Daffyd leant over to get a better look at said blueprint. "Good t'know." He didn't sound very convinced. "Can I have a look at that?"

Arthur handed the piece of paper over to him. "I... Honestly can't say I've had time to work out what it is." He admitted, remembering that Lukas had dashed into the archives and shut off the light when he'd last examined the actual item being described on the paper.

Daffyd squinted at it when it was in his hands, taking a few seconds to apparently give an aspect of it some thought. "Where's page two?"

Arthur looked down at the papers. Now on top of the pile was a simple diagram of the same item, and a block of text that appeared to describe it. "This must be it."

The Welsh student peered over, then back at the paper in his own hands for a moment, then back on the one still in Arthur's possession. "Expect the text'll tell you."

"_'The Architectural Docking and Psychological Decoding Device'_." Arthur read out the first line of text.

"Tha's a mouthful." Eoghan snorted, from the other side of the room.

"That's just the name of it." Daffyd muttered, nodding. "Go on."

"...During conception, the A.D.P.D.D. was often simply referred to as the 'device'. It is designed for students prepared to progress to the intensive training facility. The device has several purposes. Its first function is to introduce the _Evofloxi Obucinsus _drug into a student's bloodstream in small doses, as well as keep a track of the levels of said drug by use of the gauge. Its secondary, albeit primary function, is to..." Arthur's voice began to trail off, as his eyes read over the next sentence.

"Not sure I understand..." Eoghan said, almost as soon as Arthur had become quiet. "What's this about a 'drug'?"

"_'Evofloxi Obucinsus'_." Daffyd said, clearly reading the name from a part of the paper in his own hands. "I've never heard of it before, but if Arthur's just read that correctly, it sounds like this thing here..." He shook the paper. "...Is something that gets stuck on seniors' arms when they choose to cross over."

"...So they can stick a drug in the bloodstream?" Eoghan's voice lost its vigour; he sounded as if his mind was growing confused, conflicted...

Arthur swallowed, looking up at the elder of the Irish students. "I... Think the drug part is the least of our worries, if I'm honest."

The past hour had been full of startles and surprises, but Arthur was entirely sure that what he was reading in front of him was the worst one so far. He wished that Aurel, who must have looked at the file beforehand, would have warned him about what this 'device' entailed. It was _shocking_, so appallingly so, he was starting to feel a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach; whether from anger, or from repulsion, or both, he didn't know... Perhaps it was simply just from sheer horror.

"...Its secondary, albeit primary function is to host the control segment. This allows the source within the training facility to deliver its commands directly to the student's mind through the nerve connections. Additional details of this function are to be found in the control segment's blueprints." He almost wanted to throw the papers down at the floor; instead, he tightened his fingers in them, feeling his blood run colder and colder, the more his mind processed the words written in front of him. "Mind control." Once again, his head shot up towards Eoghan. "This is a bloody _mind control device_!"

Eoghan was frowning, now. Daffyd's face had lost all colour.

"This is... This is absurd!" Arthur breathed out, raking a hand backwards through his hair. He really had no other idea of how to word it.

"You're damned right it's absurd." Eoghan groaned, leaning forwards and holding his head in his hands. "_Jesus Christ_, think about it – Cameron's there right now! I mean, it was obvious lookin' at Berwald that somethin' was wrong, that the facility fucks people up, but I didn't think it was as bad as having your mind controlled by..." He let out a heavy grunt of frustration.

"The entire thing was fucked up t'begin with." Daffyd said, his head hanging slightly; his eyes were fixed dully on the device depictions in his hands.

"Arthur!" Eoghan snapped, raising his head again. "The mind control thing – the control segment – you got the one for that in your pile?"

Arthur honestly didn't want to know. He didn't want to read any more of those disgusting blueprints, but he did as was asked of him regardless and looked through the papers.

"Cameron knew, didn't he?" Daffyd muttered, meanwhile. "That _fuckin' son of a_..."

"_No._" Eoghan interjected, firmly. "Cameron prob'ly knew 'bout the drug side of it, sure, but there's no way in Hell he'd have gone if he'd known there'd be fuckin' mind control shit going on if he did. He went to the damn facility to overthrow it and... Well, we've heard fuck all about that, and it's been nearly two weeks!"

Cameron had gone to carry out Gregory's intentions. Neither of them would have been aware of what had been waiting at the facility for them... This raised more and more questions, but Arthur had to put those to one side whilst he grappled internally with the idea of Cameron having basically failed his end of the task. Not that he knew for _sure _that had been the case, but it seemed likely, with this revelation having come to light. But Cameron... Cameron had seemed so Goddamn confident about crossing over and taking the facility down! The thought of his downfall being so easy, being caused by a small device on his arm, was upsetting.

Arthur stopped browsing through the papers for a minute, and released a heavy sigh. Though he was distressed by it, Eoghan, Daffyd and Sean must have felt at least ten times worse. "They can't do this. This is against... Well, probably every single civil liberty in the U.N.'s constitution!"

"Nice way of sayin' it's unethical." Eoghan said, bitterly.

"It's not just unethical! It's..." Arthur fought for the correct term to use. "It's barbaric! I don't care how bloody 'special' they think we are, we're humans, and they're all but herding us like cattle to use as they please!" He could feel the anger inside him rising, and rising... "And yes, that much was obvious to begin with! That much we were already aware of, but _this..._" He motioned to the papers, before throwing them down onto the space on the bed separating himself and Daffyd. "This is..." He realised, all of a sudden, that there was a very large, very dry lump in his throat. He swallowed to keep it down, exhaling again. He couldn't finish the sentence, and so he plunged the room back into silence.

And then, as Arthur held his head in his hands, much as Eoghan had just done, a very small voice that he had never heard before came from the opposite side of the room; a striking difference from the raised voices he and Eoghan and Daffyd had been using.

"This is _scary._"

All eyes looked towards Sean, whose own gaze was cast towards the floor. Perhaps it was a stunned silence that followed, for Sean seemed to rarely speak – but, it was another silence all the same, broken again when Eoghan grumbled, shaking his head. "Scary doesn't begin to describe it."

A few moments later, Arthur took a hold of the papers again, resuming his search for the requested paper. He told himself to calm down; to make sense of everything and think logically, and so that was what he did. "Look... Perhaps it's not my place to say this, but whatever state Cameron is in at the moment, he is still _alive_, at least. And, well, look – we're all in shock here, aren't we? Merely at the concept of mind control, but remember – these papers were in the archives. I don't doubt whoever created them is a fucking lunatic, but I can't say I've ever seen one made in Technology class, so there's no way for sure to know these things are actually in use..."

"There is." Daffyd said assertively. The other three cast their eyes towards his sullen face. "There's perfect proof of this on the front doorstep of th'Academy, and its name's Berwald."

Arthur sank in dejection again. He'd thought that taking all factors into account there would at least have given them hope there, but Daffyd was right – he'd forgotten entirely about the ex-student who stood guarding the school buildings like he was, indeed, under the control of some greater force; never breaking his stance, never speaking, always standing there, as still as a statue.

"You've seen him, haven't you? If you need t'refresh yer memory, go take another look tomorrow." The brunet continued, turning the blueprints in his possession around so Arthur could see them. "He has a shoulder guard that extends to his bicep... Conveniently..." He poked his index finger at the diagram of the device attached to an arm. "Right over where one of these things would be."

It seemed the evidence was leaning towards the devices being in use after all. "Then how..." Arthur shook his head slightly in confusion. "Everything like this on Pangaea is made in the Technology class..."

"Which doesn't necessarily mean made by _you_." Daffyd said. "Could be Japan, could be one'f the other students... Hell, it could be anyone."

He was right there, once again. Arthur's mind was beginning to spin – this was too much to take in; it was difficult to talk about it whilst still comprehending that such a device for such purposes could exist at all.

"Then..." He began, merely just exhaling his words as soft breaths. "Then I suppose... Our 'revolution' is going to be more than just us refusing to go to class."

Quiet followed again, until Eoghan said dully, with his face almost in his hands again, "We knew that from th'start."

* * *

Notes: Absolutely nothing to add for this chapter, only the little annoying footer note I'm sure you're all used to hearing on this site - please, if you have the time, do leave a review!

Thanks for reading!

-_Lusky._


	19. XIX

A/N: First of all, following the posting of this chapter, the story will have exceeded 150,000 words (it was 144,449 after chapter eighteen, although this is including author's notes; I can't say I know the exact number for the story itself so far, but I will make sure to do a word count for the story in its entirety when I've finished). This is the most I have ever written for a story, whether it be fanfiction or otherwise. That, and I have reached 50 reviews for a story, which is the most I have ever received, as well. (This is the part where I inform you all I've been writing fanfiction since I was very young, and some of my older multi-chapter stuff is lurking on another account in the depths of the site's archives... I'm far too embarrassed to go back and look at them now, though!) And on top of those factors, the hit count for the story has surpassed 5000. I just want to say, thank you for all of these!

This May will mark one year since the first chapter of Corrupt Circle was published on the site. If it wasn't for all the feedback in the reviews I've received, and all the favourites and alerts that assures me people are interested in the story, it would not have reached 19 chapters. For all the wonderful people who have reviewed, favourited and alerted so far, thank you so, so much! Now, onto the reviews from the last chapter...

**-gylfie9 & MedusaLegend: **Thanks guys, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**-gonelikeme: **I'm glad you are! And I was expecting someone to ask me to amp up the England and Belgium interaction eventually, actually, haha! As much as I'd hate to disappoint you, you're going to have to wait a little longer for that I'm afraid – of course, there's a lot more of the story to get through and their relationship development is definitely going to be a part of that. All in good time!

* * *

_**XIX.**_

She had smiled.

That was all that mattered to Jovan; all that he found solace in, as he sat in the back of the car, sandwiched shoulder-to-shoulder between two bulky, stone-faced soldiers, travelling along the rickety path towards the facility – towards his fate that had been laid out for him, ever since the moment he'd been chosen for the Academy project four years ago.

That Svetlana had smiled told him she knew there was hope for them – she knew they'd see each other and be together again. It made his heart ache, just to think of that smile. If he could hold on to that memory, if he could hold on to all the memories he had of her, then he'd be able to face whatever was waiting for him at the facility. Svetlana believed in him, in his words; she had been the one to accept him for who he was, to stand by him when every other damned student at the Academy had treated him like trash.

Long ago, he had never thought himself capable of such feelings. But she had changed that, and she had loved him, and for that he loved her... And he was sure that he always would, no matter what the future held for them.

Truth be told, he was scared. He showed most of his emotions to Svetlana, most of those he'd keep to himself otherwise, but he couldn't have afforded to tell her he feared what was beyond Pangaea's forest; what lay waiting for him at the facility, exactly. It was a complete mystery, and the only person that had ever returned to the Academy from it was Berwald, and... Well, that hadn't exactly shed a good light on the facility, much. Still, he couldn't be stuck on the island forever, that would be Hell. The facility, the prospect of becoming a soldier to serve the U.N., seemed like the preferable choice.

It didn't help that he disliked the forest. He hadn't been past the Academy's walls since the rogues had approached him and Konstantin and shot at them; naturally, no one had... The students had been placed in another lockdown, now that a rogue attack had happened for a second time. Unless they were crossing over, the gates remained shut. They were gone, he had told himself several times; the rogues were _gone_, he and Konstantin had taken care of them... But as much as he really did make himself believe that they were no longer there, he still couldn't shake off the eerie feeling that the forest gave him. And the soldiers weren't much comfort, either. They'd been present when Gregory Richardson had been shot in the head and, well, much help they had been in protecting _him._ He figured they might as well have let Konstantin come with him in the car as a 'guard'; he'd helped take them down the last time... Hell, if Konstantin hadn't been there with him that day, Jovan was certain he'd have ended up like Gregory.

He tried to put that thought out of his mind. There was no use dwelling on the past. He'd shown his gratitude to Konstantin, and he figured Konstantin appreciated it, but that time had been and gone and he had to focus on his current situation. He was going to become an ANGEL; he was going to get his leg fixed up, and then he was going to train to become powerful enough to raze down hundreds of those rogue bastards at a time, he was sure of it! The mere thought of that erased his fears... He struggled to keep a grin from spreading onto his face, should the soldiers find it at all odd that he'd suddenly be smiling for no apparent reason.

Come to think of it...

He glanced between the soldiers either side of him. Their eyes were covered by visors; they were similar to the visors of the ANGEL's uniform, although not entirely (Jovan had been to see Berwald a few days before, to see what an actual product of the facility was. The uniform was cool, he supposed, but Berwald was a bad example of how much the training affected a person, because he'd been stoic and silent as a person before he'd crossed over. He tried not to think too much into it, at any rate). The soldiers kept their gazes forward; their heads didn't move an inch, nor did their lips even twitch slightly; they were like statues – they were like what Berwald had become.

"You guys don't talk much, huh?" Jovan snorted jokingly, leaning his head back against the seat.

As he had expected, they didn't answer. They didn't even acknowledge that he'd said anything at all... _'Boring'_, he thought, wryly.

"Suit yourselves." He mumbled.

The evening outside was clear, and in parts of the track where the tips of the trees were visible, Jovan could see the stars were alight. A nice night to be out and about, he supposed; at least it wasn't pissing with rain like the last time he'd been in the forest. He opened his mouth again to ask how long the trip was going to take (it was a walkable distance, so he supposed it wouldn't be all that long by car), but promptly shut it again, knowing the soldiers wouldn't answer him if he asked.

He found out soon enough, though, that indeed it wasn't a very long journey. Everything was dark by now; the headlights were the only source of light in the area, and when the car ground to a halt, he looked ahead through the wind-shield to see a solid black gate, much like the gates of the Academy's walls, but shorter; when he ducked his head to get a better look, he could just make out what looked to be barbed wire around the top of the wall. He winced inwardly... _Geeze_, that place was like a real army base, after all.

There were two more soldiers, rifles in hand, guarding the gate. They didn't move, but once the car had been stationary for a few moments, the doors creaked open. Unlike the gates belonging to the Academy, it seemed they were operated elsewhere, as opposed to manually – probably by a lever inside. He guessed that made sense, though, it also made the facility considerably more secure than the Academy, which he found odd, to say the least.

The car rolled on through the open doors, and into the depths of the facility complex. Jovan couldn't see a thing. He looked through all of the windows of the car, but there was nothing in sight – nothing that the car's headlights could touch... It was almost like they'd driven into a completely empty space. He furrowed his brow, narrowing his eyes to see if he could focus any better doing so. But there was nothing but an expanse of pitch black outside... And he couldn't help but feel a pang of dread in his chest, because of it.

He sat back again and cast his gaze down towards his hand; he turned his palm upwards and opened his fingers, revealing the badge he'd been given by Germania just before leaving. He took a breath through his nose, reminding himself he'd made a pledge to become an ANGEL at that time; he'd made a pledge to the Academy project, to the U.N., _Hell_, he'd technically made a pledge to Serbia for it... He was _Jovan_, after all... He was too damn strong a man to be getting cold feet over some stupid facility being surrounded by nothing but darkness. He was safe in those confines, anyway – he was one of their soldiers, and had been since he'd taken the pledge.

He was relieved to see walls, when the car stopped. Walls of black, that blended in with the dark of the night, and more soldiers outside apparently awaiting the vehicle, clad in the same colour. The driver and those either side of Jovan got out, once the car's engine had been shut off, and the lights of the car went with them, plunging everything back into complete darkness. One hand on his crutch, the other tightly wrapped around the red, white and blue badge, he shuffled along the back seat, manoeuvring out of the car door and to his feet.

He didn't know where he was going... He didn't know what he should do, now. He looked around at the soldiers expectantly, but each and every one of them were stood just as still as one another. Their focus seemed to be on him... But he wasn't sure why they weren't doing anything. Why weren't they leading him inside the place, or to wherever the Hell the front door was?

He trudged forwards a few steps, his weight on the crutch. "What now?" He asked, looking about once more into what he could see of the soldiers' visors.

No reply. It was like each of the men had become rigid statues. The little pang of worry Jovan had felt not long before returned, and hit him much harder. He swallowed, and repeated, louder, with more vigour, "What now?"

The silence continued, but it was broken when one of the soldiers from the car, previously stood behind him, began to step forwards. Jovan turned his head over his shoulder, wondering why the one alone was moving, but the answer to that was prompt... And frightening.

Before he could think to move, before he could think to tap into his abilities and dart off the spot and run like the wind, before his eyes could even widen in shock, there was a loud crackle in the soldier's hand, and a bright jolt of blueish-purple light to go with it... And before Jovan could even process fully that the soldier was holding a _fucking tazer gun_ in front of him, it hit.

The soldier rammed it to his throat, and the jolt soared through his body. His blood became white-hot, and his muscles jerked and seized up and then seemed to be unable to support his weight and he fell to the cold, hard ground, gasping for air. He coughed, spluttered, unable to even yell out – his eyes stung, and he was forced to close them as he grimaced.

Everything burnt, and he could no longer comprehend what was going on around him, because the pain was _God-awful_ and too much to bear. The crutch clattered to the ground next to him, and there was a small clink of the badge dropping from his fingers.

Silence followed... Silence in which the world around him faded... And faded... And the only light he could see was the faint memory of a smile he'd kept within him through his journey to the facility.

* * *

Over-thinking things more often than not gave room for doubt. Konstantin assured himself of this, and so he put what he'd decided when he'd spoken to Svetlana aside, for the time being. Once he'd walked with her back to the girls' dorm building, he'd headed back across the quad and up to his own dorm room to busy himself with homework... The damned Turk had given extra work to him and Heracles, and – well, he couldn't really complain, since it was something he could use to distract his mind with.

_There is a place where the sidewalk ends_

_And before the street begins,_

_And there the grass grows soft and white... _(1)

He clicked his tongue, sliding down his bed and lying on his back, holding the textbook above him. His eyes slid towards the dorm's door... Where was Aurel?

He'd be back soon, he promptly told himself, and he returned his focus to the poem.

..._And there the sun burns crimson bright,_

_And there the moon-bird rests from his flight_

_To cool in the peppermint wind..._

But it wasn't enough of a distraction, and his gaze panned back over to the door. He sighed through his nose, attempting to continue reading. The poem had been split down the middle with a task: 'Explain the symbolism of these sections of the poem.' He grunted, sitting up again and placing the textbook down so he could pick up his notepad.

_Where The Sidewalk Ends is a poem about death. The sidewalk ending symbolises the end of the writer's life, and the street is the ascent to Heaven. The grass becomes soft and white, like clouds, which are typically included in portrayals of Heaven... _He wrote, but his focus was still not completely there. He rubbed at his temple idly, tapping his pen against the notepad's paper... This wasn't exactly a difficult poem to analyse; it was frustrating that his mind was wandering so easily.

Then again... Perhaps it was reasonable for his mind to not want to be on the homework... But nor did he want to spend the evening mulling over his thoughts. He'd been so certain when he'd asked Svetlana what to do... No matter how much he wanted to think about the matter, no matter how much it was prevalent in his mind, he had sworn he wouldn't, because over-thinking would lead to him having doubts. He didn't want that any more.

He set his pen down and slid off the bed, deciding to take a shower to see if that would help at all. He supposed that by the time he was done, Aurel would be back.

But he wasn't.

It was close to seven in the evening when he'd gotten dressed for bed, and had returned his attention to his homework.

_As Heaven is commonly portrayed as being above clouds, there is constant sunlight, as mentioned in the poem as burning 'crimson bright'... _He heard movement in the hall outside, and his eyes flickered towards the door again.

There was a knock. He found that odd... Was it a teacher? He rose to his feet again, stepping over to the door and opening it.

And stood there waiting was a very surprising guest. A girl he knew of; a blonde girl with overly-coifed hair held back in a red ribbon to match her school uniform, which she was still wearing – but a girl Konstantin had little to do with...

It was Elise. Elise Claes, if he remembered right – the Belgian delegate... There was a frown on her face, and she was wringing of her hands in front of her chest. She hadn't said a word yet, but he was sure that for her to be there, especially at such an odd time, there must have been a good reason.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

She lowered her hands. "I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

He shuffled back, holding the door open for her. She walked forward until she was inside, thanking him on the way, and then he shut the door again behind her. When he turned around, she was facing him.

"I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?" She asked. Her shoulders were a little hunched, she seemed to be shrinking in on herself. He didn't know if it was out of caution towards him (perhaps she was intimidated, being in the dorm room of an older male student), or for another reason.

He didn't ask about that, and replied plainly, "No. I was just doing homework."

She rubbed at her forearm, her frown becoming more prevalent. "Um... I shouldn't really be here, in the boys' dorms after dark, without anyone to accompany me... But Aurel's in trouble."

His heart sank. In trouble? What the Hell did she mean by that?

"Remember all the fuss about Eduard?" She continued quickly. "Well, Aurel and Lukas were caught stealing from the Vice Principal's archives and... Um..." She bit her lip for a moment. "The staff aren't happy."

So that was why Aurel hadn't come back? Of all the reasons – of all the stupidthings he could have been doing, that had to have been the absolute _stupidest_. Konstantin brought a hand up to his forehead, rubbing at his eyes and groaning out in exasperation. "That idiot..." He muttered, behind his palm. Of all the times to get into trouble with the staff – of _all the times_... "That _fucking idiot_." He grunted, lowering his hand again and inhaling a deep breath, making sure he kept his aggravation to a minimal level... On the surface, at least. Elise was stood right in front of him, after all.

"That's um... That's not all." The Belgian's eyes fell to the floor, and she shifted her weight on her feet. He didn't know much about her, he supposed, but she was acting quite meek; he didn't think that was normally the type of person she was. "I know the reason why..."

He watched her pensively for a few moments. She didn't continue.

He let his shoulders drop, exhaling the breath he'd been holding. "Is it a long story?"

She nodded slowly.

He was concerned for Aurel, but with Elise right there wanting to explain the situation to him, there was nothing to be done other than listen to her. He headed over to his bed, clearing everything he had out for his homework into one pile by his pillow, offering her a seat.

"Kosta... I'm worried." Was the first thing she said, as soon as the two of them had sat on the edge of the bed. "And I... I'm sorry that I've come to you about it, especially right now, but you're the only person I can think of who might actually hear me out..." She folded her hands in her lap, toying with the hem of her skirt. "It's not just to do with Aurel; there's a few people involved... And, well, I've tried talking to one of them, but he..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head briskly. "I-I mean, I could have gone to Søren, but he doesn't listen to anyone, and..."

He rubbed at his neck. "Elise, you're not making much sense..."

She grimaced a bit, turning towards him. "Sorry..." She said, apologetically.

He shook his head. "You were saying you were worried..."

For a moment, she bit her lips together. And then, she gave a slow nod of the head. "Yeah, I'm worried... Really worried, actually. But, I need to tell you everything, otherwise, you won't understand why..."

"Then tell me everything. Start from the beginning."

Another pause. Another nod. "It started... With Gregory."

"You mean... Gregory, the old England?" He didn't think she could have meant anyone else... If it was him, things were just getting stranger and stranger.

"Yeah, well... Um... It started a while before he crossed over. I was hanging out with Antonio and we came up here to find Francis... Remember, he used to room with Gregory? I mean, we were supposed to have found Francis in the common room, but he didn't come, and so we went up to the room and... And we kind of stumbled upon them arguing..."

He listened intently to her words. So far, nothing explained why Aurel had gotten himself into trouble, but he let her continue without saying anything.

"And when Francis explained it to us, he said Gregory was planning an uprising... That is to say..." She peered up at him through her thick blonde fringe. "He was planning to completely overthrow the Academy project. He wanted the school shut down, and everyone off the island..."

Konstantin's lips parted, as if he wanted to mutter out a stunned 'what?' in response, but no words came... Really, whatever reason Elise had to tell him about that, it was a startling discovery. Why wasn't that common knowledge after Gregory's death? Why did she know – Hell, why did Francis and Antonio know, and not everyone else?

And then it hit him... Francis and Antonio, they had been looking for Eduard... Eduard had been accused of stealing from the Vice Principal's archives, just as Elise had said Aurel was now in trouble for. Did everything have a connection there?

"We were sworn to secrecy by Gregory." Elise began to wring her hands together again. "But... There are others who know; others that aren't Francis, Antonio or myself. Aurel is one of them."

He had to take a moment to process that... Even if Aurel had known about that, it still didn't explain anything to him, really.

"But... Part of Gregory's plan was that he knew he'd have to cross over... So he went to Principal Rome before he left. And he asked him to let his friend from his childhood, who he knew was also a candidate for the program, to come here."

Konstantin chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment. "Arthur?"

She nodded. "Arthur's been trying to continue Gregory's work and... Well, from what I know, Aurel's been helping him... And so has Lukas, and Alfred and Eduard, too."

He had to interrupt her to get clarification, "Continuing Gregory's work how, exactly? By stealing from the Vice Principal?"

"I think they're looking for information... I don't know for certain, I'm just guessing, but I think it's so they know what they're up against? They want to be prepared for..." She swallowed. "For the fight ahead, I guess."

This was the first Konstantin had heard of any of this... But if it were true, why didn't Aurel tell him anything? He couldn't get his head around half of it... An uprising, sparked by Gregory, and now being continued by Arthur... Feasible, he supposed, but _damn_, it was difficult to comprehend nonetheless.

Elise waved her hand in a quick, dismissive motion. "Well, yeah, like I said, I can't tell you I know their exact reasons, but that would explain why Aurel and Lukas were found snooping through the archives. They're refusing to tell any of the staff exactly why they were doing it, too, and to me, that just sounds like they've something to hide."

"How do you know about them getting caught, anyway?"

"I was helping Mr. India take some library books up to his office. We passed the commotion in the corridor outside the staff room." She lifted her shoulders in a light shrug. "I guess it was just a coincidence that I found out."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. Well, he didn't think Elise was lying – why would she be? It did explain where Aurel was, after all - but he wasn't sure he could believe _everything_ she was saying straight away...

"I guess I'll talk to Aurel tonight. How long will they keep him?" Well, his original plans for the evening were practically screwed, by now. He didn't know whether that was a good thing, or not.

"I don't know. I guess until he tells them what he was up to. He'll be in isolation during the day for a while, probably."

He snorted. Aurel being Aurel, the staff would probably be interrogating him all night. And Lukas being as stoic and reserved as he was probably wouldn't help things along, either. "Thanks for telling me, I guess." He said. "Is that all?"

"Um... Well, now that you know about what they're planning..." Elise stared him in the eye, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. He'd never seen her don such a serious expression. "I wondered if you could tell them to stop, maybe..."

"Tell them to stop? Why?" He frowned. "I mean, why me?"

She sighed, her head drooping. "Because, they might listen to you."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. "Yeah, sure, Aurel'll listen to me." He muttered, sarcastically.

"Not Aurel... But Arthur. Arthur might." She lifted her head to look at him again, and her expression softened. Now, she looked forlorn. "And if Arthur stops, then the others will too; they're following his lead... I've told him to stop, but he won't listen to me."

Konstantin cocked an eyebrow. "Elise, I barely know Arthur. I've never spoken to him outside of class. What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"Maybe that makes things easier...? Because you're not so close to him, he might see reason from you."

He spent a short while chewing it over. He'd only just found out about this 'plan' that was in place; Aurel had given no indication he was involved, or even dropped any hints about anything to do with it at all, really. And now Elise had sprung the gist of it on him, she wanted him to tell Arthur to stop it?

"But... Wait, go back. You said they want to start an uprising, right? So the reason this is happening in the first place is because they don't want to be here." That was understandable; he actually wondered why no one else had thought to do it beforehand. Well, he supposed most of the students were happy with the status quo. They had their friends and family at the Academy, after all; they were among others like themselves, accepted for who they were, whereas the rest of the world had seemed to shut them out.

"I know that... And I can understand why they're doing it but..." Elise drew in a breath through her nose, releasing it slowly. "But after what happened to Gregory... I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

So her concern for the safety of others was her incentive. He didn't think peacekeeping in a warzone – should the need for the ANGELs ever be required – was any safer than standing up to the Academy project. He supposed he could see her point of view, though – the lengths the Academy would go to, to keep the students in line, if they began to cause any sort of chaos that threatened the project... He didn't know. At least as ANGELs, they would be near-invincible (so the project had claimed in the first place), whereas how most of them were in the Academy now... They had their skills and their talents, but in most other ways, they were still ordinary kids – ordinary kids that could be shot as easily as Gregory was; ordinary kids that could be shot as easily as _Jovan _was...

"I'll think about it." He decided. It was one more thing to keep in mind, but he felt, somehow, that it wasn't a matter he could just sweep under the carpet and never deal with again. And all things considered, Elise had trusted him enough to want to come to speak to him about it; she'd come with the hope he'd be able to talk Arthur out of the plan, and so at least thinking about it instead of declining it and brushing it off straight away was the decent thing to do. "I'm not gonna make any promises, but I will think about it."

For the first time, she offered him a smile – it was downhearted, but it suited her better than the glum expressions she'd been making so far. "Thanks." She pushed herself up off the bed. "That's all I came for. Sorry for interrupting your homework."

He snorted. "Don't feel too bad about it." He said matter-of-factly, standing up as well.

They headed to the door, and he opened it to let her back out into the hallway. Konstantin was still wondering exactly what to do with all the information she'd just given him... He guessed he had time to think about it; he could make a decision before going to sleep, even.

"Hey, Elise?"

"Hmm?" As she stepped out of the doorway, she turned around to face him again.

"I realised something, earlier on today."

He paused, watching her blink and tilt her head a little, expectantly. He let out a light laugh, rubbing at the corner of his eye, not entirely sure why he'd brought the topic up.

"I realised since our time is so short here... That sometimes it's better to stand by those close to us, rather than push them away."

Elise said nothing, for the few moments in which she cast her gaze down towards her feet. Her lips twitched, and her brow creased ever so slightly; it was as if his words had caused her to think something over, all of a sudden... And perhaps they had.

"I think you're right." And then, she looked straight back up, and pasted a grin onto her face. "Well..." She began to chuckle a bit; almost nervously. "...I'm not exactly sure why you said it, but it's good advice!"

"Well... Y'know." He gave an awkward shrug. "Just keep it in mind, yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Thanks again, Kosta."

Before he knew it, she was gone, and with the door shut behind her, he was back to busying himself with his homework, and waiting for Aurel to return.

* * *

"ANGEL S.R.B.0.4., Mladić, Jovan. I welcome you to the facility."

"...What? Where am I?"

"Asleep. Your body is in need of rest, for the time being."

"_Huh_? ...Oh, those fucking soldier bastards knocked me out-! Wait... But, that doesn't explain what I'm doing _here_... I can't see a damn thing... If I'm asleep, why can I talk?"

"Your body is asleep. The 'you' I am speaking with now is your conscious mind. You're not talking, but rather, what you can 'hear' is your thoughts."

"...Eh...? But... If that's true then... Who're you... _What're _you?"

"I am the Creator."

"...Yeah, well, that didn't exactly answer my question, y'know. 'The Creator' is kind of vague."

"I am what I am. That is to say, I am the creator of this facility, and of the Academy. I created the Academy program in its entirety."

"Riiiight. Nope, still not what I was asking. Lemme start over, what are you, and how the _fuck _are you talking to me through... I don't know, my conscious mind, or whatever?"

"I am not human. Rather, I was once. My body perished, but I now exist as what you could consider to be an artificial intelligence, created with what was left of my mind. What you are hearing of both me and yourself is signals – brainwaves."

"I'm talking to a dead guy through brainwaves... Uh-_huh_. Geeze, did I... Hit my head on the ground when those assholes tazed me, or somethin'?"

"Regardless, the circumstances of my existence should not concern you... Nothing should concern you any longer, ANGEL S.R.B.0.4."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your mind is troubled, I can tell. You have things you hold dear, and things that cause you anger... You have doubts about your being here, doubts about leaving the Academy behind..."

"...What? How are you- What are you doing in my head!?"

"Do not worry. No harm will come to you; this is a crucial part of the creation of ANGELs. It frightens you, doesn't it? But like everything that frightens you, you keep it to yourself. You refuse to allow people to see the vulnerability that lies beneath your surface – you want them to think that you're strong..."

"Shut up...! _Shut the Hell up_!"

"But you _are_ strong. You've been strong for a long time. You became strong as a child; you were aware you were adopted, you were aware that your birth parents cast you aside..."

"J-Just shut your fucking mouth!"

"You went so far as to lie, to say they died. You couldn't bear the shame of having living parents whom displaced you. You were always rejected; even those at the Academy treated you different... You were an outcast among outcasts."

"_Stop._..!"

"But there's a girl, is there not? A girl who accepted you, a girl who loved you, unconditionally."

"S-Stop! Stop it! _Please._.. G-Get out of my head!"

"Your words cannot stop me, ANGEL. It is a necessity for me to be inside your mind. This is the fate you chose yourself, is it not?"

"I swear... I swear whoever or whatever the _fuck _you are, when I wake up-"

"When you wake, your rebirth will have been completed, and this conversation will be of no concern to you. As of now, your body is undergoing surgery. You will need to remain asleep until it is complete... By then, it will all be over."

* * *

Time ticked away. It was ten o'clock, then eleven... Then midnight. And by then, Konstantin's eyelids were too heavy to stay open any longer.

By the time he could muster the energy to open them again, the lamp on his night stand had been switched off, and daylight was seeping into the room around the closed curtains. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, noticing he was beneath the duvet, and his books from the night before had been stacked together on the floor beside his bed. He didn't remember getting under the sheets, nor did he remember placing his homework on the floor – the last thing he remembered before drifting off was making tired scribbles across his workbook and wondering why the Hell the teachers were keeping Aurel so late...

_...Aurel._

He sat up and glanced over to the other bed. It was empty, but judging by the dishevelled sheets, it had been slept in. So Aurel had been back, at some point... Had he been the one to tuck Konstantin in? The thought made him a little flustered... _Dammit, _why did Aurel always have to get up so early?

Konstantin began to play back what Elise had told him the night before in his mind... It was possible Aurel had to be isolated for the day, because of what he'd apparently been up to. He decided he needed to find him after class, and do what he needed to do – whether the damned moon and stars were in the right position, or not.

He shuffled out of bed and threw on his gym kit, and then opened the curtains, filling the dorm with the pale morning light. The day before somehow didn't feel like it had actually happened; it was like he'd just woken from a strange dream. He'd agreed to Adéla's terms, he'd watched Jovan cross over, and even more bizarrely, Elise had asked for his help in preventing Arthur from starting an uprising... And as if all that wasn't strange enough, he'd had that stupid fucker playing mind games on the phone with him, too...

...Speaking of which, he wondered where he'd put that phone. Finding the school trousers he'd had on the day before, he dug into the back pocket to find that it was still there. He didn't know whether that was a relief or not. The more he thought about the last conversation he'd had with the voice on the other end of the line, the more angry he felt about having to be manipulated like that. He held the plastic shell in his hand, his fingers wrapped tightly around it; he honestly felt like crushing the stupid piece of shit, but he remembered the threat... And though it might well have been empty, he couldn't take the risk... He just _couldn't._

He cared too damn much about Aurel to let anything happen to him.

Konstantin breathed out a heavy sigh and shoved the phone into the back pocket of the shorts he had on; at least then he'd only have to remember it existed whenever he sat down – providing he wasn't called on it again, of course.

Once he was ready to leave the dorm, he did so. A few other rooms on the corridor had their doors open, and there were one or two voices talking, though he couldn't hear what they were saying. This was a normality, whether it be on a weekday or a weekend, but normally on the latter, it would take place a lot later on.

After locking his dorm, he set off towards the staircase. He'd woken fairly early, considering how late he must have fallen asleep; he had time for breakfast before Archery was to begin. He didn't pay much notice to the others students in the corridor; most of them were probably heading to the caféteria, the same as he was, but something caught his attention, a few doors up from the end of the corridor. Specifically, a voice he recognised, and a question that struck him.

"Yeah, I came back last night and all his shit was gone. Pretty typical of the bastard, he doesn't tell anyone what he's doing. Like yeah, I know he's been in the damned infirmary for a while, but let's face it, he's not exactly the neatest of people – all his stuff was _everywhere _on his side of the dorm in the morning, I come back after extra track? It's all gone, and even the bed's made perfectly. Asides from that, Feliks said he saw him go. He wasn't walking out of the gates, either; no, the goons from the facility brought a car up."

Konstantin hadn't realised he'd been stood transfixed by what Krešimir was saying, until the Croat had backed out of the doorway of the dorm (that wasn't his) and had seen him.

"Yeah well I guess making him walk all the way there on a crutch would've been bordering on torture." Came one of the voices from inside the room. Konstantin was pretty sure it was the Ecuadorian delegate – if he remembered right, that was his dorm.

Krešimir returned his attention to the conversation at hand. "I never said it wouldnt've been."

"I'm guessing you're not gonna miss him, though?"

"Not really. Good riddance to the guy. At least now I'm assured of _permanent_ peace and quiet in my dorm."

He supposed their relationship hadn't exactly been conventional, but hearing others talk about Jovan like that now... For some reason, it stung him. Konstantin tried shrugging it off; he walked onwards past Krešimir, heading for the stairs again.

"Oh, hey, Kosta – you were there, weren't you?" The Croat's voice stopped him in his tracks again.

Frowning, he turned around. "When Jovan crossed over? Yeah, I was. And just so you know, it was Lana that cleared out his stuff."

Krešimir nodded slightly. "I thought it might've been. Feliks said she was there too."

"And?" Somehow, Konstantin wasn't surprised that Feliks had been the one dishing out this info. The Pole was renowned for gossiping.

"And nothing." Krešimir lifted his shoulders once. "I mean I can understand why she was there, but I didn't think you and he were friends."

_'Neither did I.'_ Konstantin thought to himself.

The Croat seemed to be a bit wary of the silence he'd caused by saying that. "Err, not to intrude on you, or anything."

He nodded his head. "No, no. It's fine. Sorry, it's just not something I want to talk about."

"I see. Sorry to bother you."

Konstantin supposed he shouldn't have minded as much as he did. Who was he to begin to feel protective of Jovan, all of a sudden, when he'd all but found him to be a complete pain in the ass beforehand?

He tried shaking it off again; he headed downstairs, as Krešimir began another conversation with the Ecuadorian in the dorm. Once they were out of his earshot, he tried to put the matter out of his mind entirely.

As he was leaving the caféteria after breakfast, however, he came face to face with one of his more pressing problems sooner than he had thought he would. As he was exiting the auditorium building to return to the dorms and collect his equipment for Archery, someone walking in the opposite direction caught his eye. _Lukas_. He had to do a double-take to make sure that he wasn't seeing someone else; that it wasn't actually Emil or Tino... No, it really _was_ Lukas.

He paused, his gaze on the Norwegian. Lukas noticed, and stopped as well to stare back at him; although it was a blank look, something about the look he gave Konstantin told him he knew what he was thinking.

"I'm guessing you were told." The blond said, dully.

Konstantin neither confirmed nor denied that. "Where is he?"

Lukas shrugged. "The Vice Principal's office, I'm guessing."

"Isolation?"

The Norwegian nodded.

"...What about you, then?"

There was a pause, in which Lukas's lips spread into a thin frown. "What about me?"

"Why aren't you in isolation as well?"

"Aurel was the one caught in the act. I just happened to be there at the same time."

The way Elise had worded it, Konstantin had thought both of them to have been equally at fault... But, he supposed she couldn't have known the full story last night. Still, he had to admit that pissed him off more than a little. "So they let you go, and not him?"

Lukas snorted. "I have detentions tonight, tomorrow, and every night of next week. And this weekend and next weekend? Those are my isolation days. I might be out and about for class, but I didn't exactly get let off the hook."

There was a lot Konstantin wanted to say to Lukas, but it was still early in the morning and neither the time nor the place were appropriate. Besides, he supposed though there was that aggravation inside him, he couldn't hold Lukas accountable for Aurel getting what looked to be a more severe punishment.

Asides from that, he had an hour long lesson with Arthur, next... And Arthur had been the one Elise had said was leading whatever the Hell was going on; the one she'd wanted him to talk to.

"Yeah... Right." Konstantin lowered his head, as well as his voice.

Lukas stayed put for a moment. He seemed as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he merely turned away from Konstantin and went on his way, speaking off-hand as he did so, "I'm going to get breakfast, anyway. If you want to see him, go ask Germania."

He didn't respond. Lukas probably hadn't wanted him to respond, either. Releasing a disgruntled sigh, Konstantin went on his way again. He didn't think he could do that; he didn't think he could just wander straight up to Germania's office and ask to see Aurel – that kind of defeated the point of the isolation.

When he had spoken to Elise, he had specifically said he would think about talking to Arthur. And talk to Arthur, he decided, he would. Was he going to try to talk him out of the uprising she had mentioned? That, he didn't know. What he wanted before he considered that was an explanation of what exactly was going on between Arthur, Aurel, Lukas, Eduard, and whoever else was involved – first-hand.

* * *

Jovan didn't know how long he'd been asleep since he and the faceless voice had stopped talking... It felt as if it could have been days, but it couldn't have been that long, he was sure. Regardless of how long it had been, he knew his body was still unconscious.

He was in a lucid dream of some kind. All he could see now was an endless expanse of white – white above him, white below him... And he was walking as freely as he could before his injury; he was walking _aimlessly_, further and further across the blank scene.

The Creator hadn't had an actual voice, but rather, he had spoken through thoughts to Jovan... So where was it now, if he was still dreaming?

_'...What am I doing? Where am I even going?'_

On and on, he walked.

_'That voice... The Creator, or whatever... What happened to it? They're not talking any more, so... Can they still see my thoughts? ...And what was that about surgery? Did they mean on my leg? Geeze, none of this is making any sense..'_

When he stepped forward again, the footsteps – suddenly – were no longer silent. He'd barely noticed, but the white expanse had disappeared, and now he was stood on solid, stone ground. He blinked, bringing it into focus; the stone was a weather-beaten grey, but it was sun-dappled with the same warm light that he could now feel shining down onto the back of his neck.

Standing straight, and still, he looked around at the new setting that had appeared. It was a back yard of a small house – a white-walled house with an unevenly slated roof. He took a moment to stare at the building; to stare at the peeling paint on the wooden window panes and the grimy smudges on the glass, at the pebble-dash texture of the walls and the sharp edges of the broken plastic guttering. He stepped backwards, arching his neck up to get a better look at it all; to take it in... And then he stepped forwards once again, his hand outstretched towards the wall. He pressed the tips of his fingers along the wall, feeling the tiny pebbles grating into his skin...

It was just how he remembered it, his childhood home.

It felt real... It felt _very _real, but there was no way it could be. It was all an illusion; it was a dream. He shook his head, swallowing, and turning towards the rest of the yard. It was enclosed by a rickety wooden fence; the grass was long and wispy, having been neglected for years. The dead trees in the back were exactly as they had been for decades, like long, shady, crippled fingers framing the endless fields behind them.

His head turned back to the house again. The air was still, and temperate, and the sky had few clouds... The sun was warm enough for him to feel it, and the nostalgic, musty scent of late summer was carried past by the light breeze... If it wasn't for his rational thoughts, he'd have genuinely believed he had somehow stepped into the past and returned home.

But that couldn't have happened... Could it?

That very notion was crushed in an instant, when he heard the words of 'the Creator' again, echoing in his mind, toneless and empty.

_'Go to the stream... You remember where it is, don't you?'_

"Why should I go there?" He found himself answering, aloud.

_'She's waiting for you.'_

He exhaled through his nose. "_Who's _waiting for me?"

_'You should go and see for yourself.'_

Jovan didn't want to do that. He didn't want to adhere to what he was being told to do, especially because everything was getting stranger and stranger, the longer this 'dream', or whatever the Hell it was, went on. And that voice – the Creator – was inside his mind. The sheer thought of it was disturbing.

Yet, he cast his gaze to the opposite end of the yard, and began to trudge through the long grass... Where else could he go, after all? He wasn't really _there_, _back home_, after all. The house appeared to be empty – he'd never seen it so silent. He'd never really been out in the back yard without his several siblings running riot, which would usually lead to their mother scolding them (often from the open kitchen window, were she not out the back with them).

Neither his father, nor his mother, nor his siblings had ever really made any effort to take care of the yard; it was overgrown, and really as a child it had only served as a wild-land that had to be passed before one could reach the fields that stretched across the rolling hills beyond the blackened trees and the broken fence.

After clearing the grass, he ducked under one of the trees' thick branches, before hopping over what remained of the brittle fence. The stream the voice had spoken of no doubt referred to the one that ran amidst the fields... It was a short trek there, down a vast hill covered in flowers of a bright chartreuse colour that came up to his mid-calves (they had been above his kneecaps, when he'd walked through them as a younger teen). Sure enough, there was someone seated at the very bottom, where the stream cut what was practically a small valley in half – their hair was dark, and it stuck out against the upwards gradient on the opposite side of the hills.

The closer he got, the more telling the figure's features were. It was a young woman, and her hair was a little longer than shoulder-length. He continued walking until he was stood a few yards from the edge of the stream. She was seated at the very edge, her bare feet submerged in the running water.

"Lana?"

This... Was all a dream; some kind of fantastic ('fan-_fucking_-tastic', were he to phrase it in his own words, albeit sarcastically) smoke and mirror device summoned up by the Creator, because there was no way in Hell there would have been any other means of her being there.

"I like it here." It was her voice, too... No doubt she, like the house and the yard and the fields and the stream, was just a part of Jovan's memories; there was something un-lifelike about the way she spoke – it was monotonal, and it was something that, had he not already known how false these surroundings were, would have surely shattered the illusion for him.

He didn't budge an inch from the spot, and neither did she. The stream gurgled and hissed over the silence, until he coughed, breaking it. "Yeah, I do too. It's a comforting memory, considering it's my 'home' and all. That's why it's here, isn't it?"

Another moment of quiet. She rose from the ground, but didn't face him. "We could stay here forever."

A small, dismissive grunt passed his lips, and he shook his head slowly. "No. No, we couldn't."

"Of course we could. Why do you think otherwise?"

Dreams didn't have to make sense... Dreams were often strange and even though this one was incredibly realistic – to the point where he could feel the light chill of the stream on his face and the heat of the sun on the back of his neck – it was bizarre for the very same reason. What was the Creator trying to do?

"Because I have to wake up, eventually."

And then, in one quick, fluid motion that he'd have missed had he blinked, she turned around, her features aglow with _that smile – _the one he'd kept in his thoughts after crossing over, the one he'd recalled in the last moments before he'd passed out and fallen into these mind games the Creator was playing. His heart sank; suddenly, knowing that it was all just an illusion was painful.

"Wake up?" Her voice grew softer, as did her eyes. "No, you don't have to wake up at all, Jovan. You and I could stay here, together – forever; just the two of us." She lifted her hand, outstretching it towards him. "Surely that's what you want?"

"Lana..." For a moment longer, he almost believed it all to be real, and his hand flinched; he felt compelled to lift it a few inches away from his side, but he quickly retracted it. It was getting to him – all of it was... He could feel his rational thoughts starting to disappear; he was beginning not to care of the falsehood of it all... But _why_? Why was he being swayed so easily? He swallowed. "Of course it's what I want, but..."

"No 'buts'."

It were as if there were someone pushing against his back, and he placed a foot forwards, to stop himself from falling face first into the hill. But the force didn't stop, and the closer he drew to her, the more it began to feel as if he were being pulled in, rather than pushed. He tried digging his weight into the ground, to no avail; it merely caused him to stumble mid-walk.

All the while, she stood still, her hand still out in front of her, inviting him towards her. His eyes were firmly locked onto hers... And he grew nearer, and lifted his arm again, stretching forth, and barely touching his fingers against the tips of Svetlana's...

"**PROCEDURE COMPLETE. A.D.P.D.D DEVICE FULLY INCORPORATED INTO THE SYSTEM. PREPARING TO REMOVE ANGEL UNIT FROM TOWER A."**

The words cut through the dream and the illusion was shattered. A haze clouded his vision, and he was hurtled back into darkness.

* * *

Notes:

(1) – From Where The Sidewalk Ends, a poem by Shel Silverstein. I actually don't know what it's about, but dying and going to Heaven would be my guess.

This chapter was initially a lot longer, but a good chunk of what would have made it well over 10,000 words (it was in the region of 14,000, which would have made it the longest chapter so far) was Jovan's dream. There were originally three parts to the dream, but I cut out two because whereas they seemed interesting in my head, they ended up dragging the chapter out and serving no purpose.

Alright, with all that said and done, thanks for reading, and as usual, reviews would be greatly appreciated!

_-Lusky._


	20. XX

A/N: Alright! It's been practically a year since Corrupt Circle's first chapter was published! And I'm going to make a very big assumption here which might not be adhered to, but I should think that this chapter, number 20, is the story's halfway point. Which means roughly 20 more chapters, bringing the total to 40. This isn't set in stone, but I think it's a decent estimate. Wow, the thought is pretty exciting! I really have never had such motivation to sit and write a story before!

Also, one more update! The story has been added to the C2 'One in Millions!', so I absolutely must thank whoever added it to that, be it a staff member's choice or through a recommendation. It's the most wonderful thing, to know that people consider my work a good enough standard to be filed into an archive, especially one with such a high calibre of content. From the bottom of my heart, thank you very, very much!

Now, as usual, the review replies from the previous chapter:

**-MedusaLegend: **I don't know whether to apologise or not! But thanks for leaving a review, either way.

**-jupiter123 and Widzabel: **Thank you to you both, and I hope you enjoy the following chapter!

* * *

_**XX.**_

It had been a long night. One of the longest he'd had at the Academy so far, Arthur was certain. Aurel and Lukas had never shown up, which left him greatly concerned. Eoghan had kept the blueprints and told him to go to bed rather than get any more wound up over the fact they hadn't ended up coming. Begrudgingly, he'd agreed. But that night, he found it difficult to sleep, with all the thoughts of the blueprints and the facility and the A.D.P.D.D... In fact, he hadn't been entirely sure exactly what hour of the evening it was when he eventually had dropped off. Francis hadn't been back – he remembered that at least – but he spent most nights out late in Antonio and Gilbert's room (well, Arthur _assumed _that was where he was, anyway), and so the Frenchman's absence was no indication of any exact time.

Francis was back the next morning, but fast asleep, curled over with his back to Arthur's side of the room. Not bothering to wake him, Arthur got ready for Archery class in silence, his mind still occupied with the revelations of the night before.

Half the class were present already when he arrived at the southern field, though it still must have been twenty minutes before the lesson was due to begin.

"_Yeah, _so like, I heard Gil is really pissed off n'stuff." He overheard Feliks – the Polish delegate – mumbling apathetically, as Arthur passed him to reach where the arrows were stocked. He initially brushed off what he was saying as none of his business, but it was only when Feliks got a response that he tuned into the conversation.

"Hey, first Eduard, and now Aurel and Lukas? Seems kinda fishy, doesn't it?" This voice belonged to Yong Soo, the student from South Korea. He sounded a lot more interested in the situation than Feliks did.

Arthur's interest was piqued too, now. He lifted one of the quivers of arrows and slowly turned his head towards where Feliks and Yong Soo were stood... If he had heard all of that correctly, it didn't sound good.

"Pft, yeah, 'course, everyone's made that connection. But, like, who would want what's in Germania's crusty old archives anyway?" Feliks droned on; he had one hand on his hip, and was checking over his fingernails on the other.

Yong Soo scratched at his head with a pensive frown; he looked as if he were searching his brain for an answer to that. Arthur, knowing far better than anyone else exactly what the answer was, did his best not to pull a face in reaction – in case either of them saw him. Aurel and Lukas... Had they been caught the night before? It certainly sounded like it. Arthur cursed inwardly, a pang of guilt swelling in his stomach. They had convinced him that they could pull it off without a problem... He felt like an idiot for having left without them, now.

Instead of lingering around, leaving a chance for his classmates to decide to get a sudden glimpse of him, he wandered away to the far end of the field marked out by the targets, where the last in the row was erected. This was where he usually practised during class, unless Mongolia had other ideas for him... Luckily, there hadn't been very many rounds of 'Catch and Fire' recently, and Arthur had yet to partake in one himself (not that he wanted to, particularly – he did rather like his skull in tact, and not popped like a cherry by an arrow shot slightly too low).

"Arthur!" A sudden voice nearby caught his attention – it was Konstantin. He was seated on the grass, fiddling with the string of a wooden bow that didn't appear to be his own. When he saw Arthur, however, he stood.

"Morning..." Arthur said, a little taken aback by the sudden announcement of his name.

Konstantin glanced sidelong towards the other students. He seemed to be making sure that none of them were watching him or Arthur; as they were mostly talking amongst one another, it didn't take more than a couple of moments before he approached, lowering his voice to a raspy almost-whisper. "Can I have a word?"

Arthur frowned. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Aurel, would it?" He asked, just as quietly.

"To a point."

If Konstantin was directly linking Arthur to what had happened, the question was... _How_? Did Aurel tell Konstantin he was going to be there with both Lukas and Arthur? Arthur knew they shared a dorm room, and he had a feeling the two of them were fairly close, but he couldn't assume that what he was guessing at was definitely the case. Aurel barely ever spoke of Konstantin around Arthur, or even around Lukas from what he could tell. It seemed odd that people defined them as 'best friends' when Arthur himself had never seen them together more than thrice, perhaps.

But exactly what had been said – and by whom – quickly became clear.

"Elise came to see me last night." Konstantin continued, casting his gaze down towards the bow in his hand; he rubbed his thumb over where the string was fraying at the top groove.

"E-Elise?" Arthur was startled. Konstantin didn't even have to go into detail for him to know exactly what she would have gone to see him about... But why? Why Konstantin? And... Why was she talking to other people about it anyway?

Konstantin peered back up at him, an eyebrow cocked. "_Elise._ Not exactly someone I was expecting a visit from..."

"...Dare I ask why?" Arthur had a feeling Konstantin was aware he knew what he was talking about, as well; he asked regardless of this.

"To be honest, a lot of the stuff she talked about didn't exactly sink in too well. The first thing she told me was about Aurel, so you were right about that." He lifted the bow up horizontally, holding the lower end towards Arthur. "Do you mind holding this end for me? It's Feliks's; I'm trying to fix the string."

Arthur agreed, and placed his own equipment down before gripping the lower limb of Feliks's bow. "What exactly happened to Aurel, then?"

"He and Lukas were caught in the Vice Principal's archives." Konstantin said this very matter-of-factly, though he still took care in being quiet. "Though, you know why, don't you? At least, Elise said you were involved." With Arthur supporting the weight of the bow, he began to tighten the string. "She said you were initiating it, actually."

Even though there was a feeling of dread washing over him, Arthur merely snorted. If Elise had been talking to Konstantin about what he and the others were doing, it was possible she had told more students. That was irritating; he was sure that, even if she hadn't seen eye-to-eye with him on the matter, they had worked it all out... What was she hoping to achieve, telling Konstantin?

"...Are you?" Konstantin asked.

"Do I need to answer that?" Arthur was the one to cock his eyebrow, now. "Not that it's something I'd be happy with the entire Academy knowing about, of course. I can see why you'd second guess it, though; I did only come here last month, after all."

"I don't think it's something everyone knows about." Konstantin lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "At least, not from what I could tell. Elise only came to me 'cause she was worried, she said." He looked over towards the other students again, most likely as a cautionary measure, to make sure they were still going about their own devices and weren't snooping on their conversation. "She asked me to talk to you about it... Or, should I say, she asked me to talk you out of it."

The more he heard, the more disgruntled he became. Mimicking the manner in which Konstantin had asked him the same before, Arthur muttered, "...Are you?"

Konstantin shook his head. "I promised Elise I'd talk to you about it, but that was all. Put it this way, would anything I say actually stop you?"

"Honestly, no."

"There you are, then." He tugged on the string, checking the connection was stable, before taking the bow back. "Thanks."

"Not at all." Arthur muttered, quickly. Truth be told, he was relieved at that outcome; he hadn't wanted to make an enemy of Konstantin. Though, he did still wonder... "Actually, now that you know... Where do you stand?"

"Well, see, that's part of the reason I wanted to talk to you about it." Konstantin replied. "I don't know enough of what you're doing to form an opinion." He seemed to falter for a moment, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. "Actually... I'd like you to fill me in on it, if you wouldn't mind."

"Well, what is it you want to know?" Arthur asked.

Konstantin shrugged. "A lot of things. Everything, even. But I've got a lot on my mind at the moment already..."

Arthur nodded a bit. He couldn't help but wonder what those 'things' were, though he thought it best not to ask. "I see."

Lowering his arm again, Konstantin continued, "Well, that, and this isn't exactly the place and time to go into detail."

"I suppose it would be alright for me to tell you about it some other time, but... Wouldn't it be easier for you to just talk to Aurel instead?" Arthur asked.

"Ah... Aurel's not exactly the best at telling me things. That...And I don't know if I'll be able to ask him any time soon. At least, not until his isolation's over."

"Isolation?" Had that meant what Arthur thought it did?

"I haven't seen him since yesterday." Konstantin replied. "Lukas is out and about though; he was the one who told me where Aurel is."

Arthur swallowed. "They're... Actually keeping him out of class, because of that?"

"Seems that way."

He felt a great deal worse, hearing that. Arthur let out a strained sigh, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. "Sorry..." He didn't know why he was apologising; he supposed he felt a portion of the blame had to fall on him despite the fact he'd avoided any confrontation from staff... So far.

"It's not your fault." The way Konstantin said this wasn't very convincing. To Arthur, it sounded like he was just saying it because it was the right thing to say.

Arthur moved his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was about to say something along the lines of 'yes, actually, it is sort of my fault', but before he could, Feliks had flounced over to Konstantin, interrupting their conversation.

"It's fixed? Cool, thanks." He plucked the bow out of Konstantin's grip, and left just as quickly as he'd come.

"I... Suppose whenever's good for you, then." Arthur said, watching Feliks return to where Yong Soo was stood. His eyes then panned to the side; he noticed Mongolia was approaching.

Konstantin, having apparently seen the teacher as well, picked up his own bow and quiver, ready to head over to his usual target. "How's tonight? I should be free after..." He paused, with a frown. "Five."

Arthur nodded. "I'll be around the dorm building."

Once the conversation had ended and class had commenced, Arthur thought little of what they'd discussed. This, he found, had become the norm... So long as he was focusing on what he was doing in class, normally everything else was – for the time being – of little concern to him.

Fifteen minutes passed... He'd just barely scraped the inner ring of his target once or twice... He was getting better, there was no doubt about that; just like Swordsmanship, Archery required his full attention, and a lot of practise. He wasn't _perfect_, by no means – Hell, compared to the rest of the class, he was still a total novice, but at least his aim was improving, even if Mongolia had told him countless times by now that he still needed to load the arrows far more quickly.

Twenty-five minutes... Thirty-five... His attention was distracted for a moment – as was everyone else's – when Yong Soo's target was launched backwards from a particularly powerful shot. The rest of the class paused to turn towards him, and the Korean looked then as if he'd won the lottery.

"Excellent work." Mongolia said over the quiet, standing next to the dark-haired boy and peering over at his flattened target. "You're ready to play Catch and Fire now."

Needless to say, this wiped the grin straight off of Yong Soo's face.

The end of class rolled by, and the hours of the day ticked on, and Arthur was content for most of them. He spent Technology class and the break period talking mostly about trivial things with Alfred, though during the latter time, the topic regarding Konstantin and Elise did crop up.

"_Uh-l'se_?" Alfred mumbled whilst chewing on a candy bar. He swallowed with a frown. "Again, huh? She needs to keep her damned nose outta things!"

Arthur agreed with Alfred, and yet, part of him felt as if he shouldn't have. It wasn't that it was a secret – at least, not to Alfred – but the American had already reacted in exactly the same manner to Elise's objections beforehand. Arthur didn't want a repeat of that day when they'd argued.

"I'll try to sort it out." Was all he could reply with.

When Advanced Mathematics came around, he remembered to do exactly that.

Elise slid into the seat in front of his, her body and head turned back towards him. She was smiling, and Arthur purposefully forced a sullen expression onto his face in response. In mere moments, her smile disappeared, and the words that usually came out as a cheerful 'Hey, Arthur', came out instead as a low whisper of, "Kosta spoke to you, didn't he?"

He narrowed his eyes, his arms folded on his desk. He attempted to match her whispering tone, though when he did so, it came out as more of a hiss, "What the _Hell _do you think you're playing at, Elise?"

He didn't think he was necessarily angry at _her_, though he supposed he should have been, because really, he was angry at the potential situation her 'intervention' could have placed him in. He'd been lucky Konstantin had wanted to see things from his point of view before passing any judgement, as he'd put it.

But... He supposed that wasn't the only reason...

She sighed lightly. "Don't take it the wrong way, please... I just-"

"-Don't want anyone to get hurt." He droned, his brow creased. "You've told me that quite a few times before."

"Arthur..."

He straightened his back, shifting his arms and knitting his fingers together in front of him. All the while, he didn't take his eyes off of hers. "I understood you, you know. I understood why you were concerned, even if what you said wasn't going to change my mind." He released a short exhale through his nose, pausing in thought to recall their conversation the day before. "Do you happen to remember what I said to you, afterwards?"

She was silent. The chatter of the others speckled around the classroom filled Arthur's ears, though they all seemed unaware of the conversation, and they were merely white noise to him. Elise's eyes were half-lidded; her gaze – guilt-ridden – was fixated on Arthur's desk... At least, he thought she was looking at his desk, for a moment, until he realised it was actually his hands she was looking at.

"I remember." She said, softly. "You did this." Her hand reached for his, and she broke it free of the weave it had with its twin. Her hold was gentle, her skin warm; she was barely using any force to move his hand, not until she'd rested both their wrists on the desk top and squeezed with her fingers.

It made his heart jump, and in that moment, he'd managed to forget what he was even talking to her about.

"And then..." She peered up at him through her thick eyelashes. "You told me you were going to give me a reason to have hope again."

Arthur, for some reason, had to swallow, before his breath hitched in his throat. The day before, when their hands had touched like that, he had felt much calmer, despite the thumping of his heart... But now, now that thumping was so loud, it was in his head, and he was tense, but he didn't know exactly why until he realised there were others in the room... Others that could possibly have seen them... Without knowing the context of their conversation, what would they make of it?

But, more importantly... Why did he care?

"Again, you said you 'didn't want anyone to get hurt'..." He managed to say, breathily. "Elise, that you went to Kosta... I'm honestly hurt."

He wasn't lying. But, as he uttered those words to her, it was she whom appeared to be the hurt one.

"I'm sorry..." Her eyes searched his face, and her fingers wrapped tighter on his hand. "I really am, Arthur... I didn't mean to upset you, it's just..." Her voice trailed off, mid-sentence. She looked back towards their hands, and for a second or two, she seemed to hesitate, before very carefully unlocking and lifting hers away from his. She inhaled a deep breath, and then shook her head, a gentle, yet bitter chuckle emerging from behind her lips. "I'm _sorry_. _God_, it sounds pathetic, right now, saying sorry over and over, but Arthur... When I saw Aurel and Lukas detained last night, after what you'd told me... I was scared." She folded her hands together, one atop the other, mere inches away from where his own were, unmoved since she'd last touched them. "I was scared that if they could be caught like that, so easily, following your lead, then they could be hurt easily, following your lead... I panicked, Arthur. I panicked, and I went to Kosta, because Kosta is the closest person to Aurel, and I knew he'd hear me out..."

"I see." Arthur's hand felt unpleasantly cold, and in contrast, his cheekbones unpleasantly hot. "I... Suppose I understand." He bit on the inside of his lip a bit. "However, I ask that you don't try to interfere again."

She met his eyes with hers again, a trace of a frown crossing her features. "...And what if I do? What would you do to stop me?"

He had to admit, it was very lucky that India had made his way into the classroom at that very moment, because as much as he wanted to find one, Arthur honestly didn't have an answer for her.

* * *

"Hey, brat."

Konstantin and Heracles had been kept behind in Poetry. _Again._

"Hey, brat!"

It had been on the grounds that he hadn't completed his stupid homework... Well, in Konstantin's case, anyway... In Heracles's case, he'd been 'arguing with the teacher' enough to warrant another detention period. Hell, Heracles would probably have had to have _lived _in the Poetry classroom to clear all of the detention time he'd have collected together from doing that.

His eyes narrowed a little, Konstantin glanced towards the front desk, wondering which of the 'brats' the Turk was referring to.

"Geeze, you got feta lodged in your ears again?" The man snarled towards Heracles, as he flicked through his heavy book, his legs propped up and crossed on the desk as usual.

Konstantin shifted his gaze to his immediate right. The Greek was resting on his own desk – face down and apparently asleep, his textbook propped like a tent over the back of his head. Turkey closing his heavy book made Konstantin look towards the front once more. Realising that the teacher probably intended to throw the item at Heracles to wake him up, Konstantin jabbed him in the side with his elbow. This made him stir.

"_Heh._ Welcome back to reality, brat." Turkey grinned, leaning back in his seat with the book resting in his lap. "You can stop makin' that buzzing noise now, before it pisses me off."

Heracles took a moment to remove the textbook from his head and sit upright. "Buzzing noise? I'm not doing anything..."

Turkey looked between the two of them for the next couple of moments. He lifted his legs off the table, giving Heracles a particularly suspicious look... Though he'd normally team such an expression with a scathing comment, he was completely silent. The room remained as such... Until Konstantin's ears pricked at a very faint sound... Indeed, it was a 'buzzing' noise.

Swoop. Clatter. _Bang._.. Damn, for someone Konstantin considered to be an old man, Turkey could move fast. He sometimes failed to recall almost all of the current teachers had the same abilities as the students – speed included. A launch across the classroom like that would only normally phase a freshman student.

He turned his head to the back wall of the room. Turkey tugged on his book, which he had, for some reason, smacked against the wall, before holding it flat in front of him.

"Hah! I gottit!" He was grinning, though that expression quickly disappeared and was replaced with a considerably confused look. "_Eh_?"

Turkey strode back to the front of the room, and placed the book in the middle of the desk Konstantin and Heracles were sharing. On top of the book were several minuscule pieces of what appeared to be either metal or plastic.

"Thought it was a fly." The man snorted. "It even looked like a fly, 'fore I squashed it. Probably a Technology class prank; I've seen Japan workin' on things like that."

Heracles looked mildly interested in the wrecked item. "If it's Japan's, why would you smash it to pieces like that?"

"Hey, didn't ya just hear me!? I didn't know it was a stupid mechanical one!"

"Well, good luck explaining that to Japan..."

Konstantin rubbed at his forehead. _Great_, they were arguing and missing the point entirely. Nothing new there, of course, but it was irritating nonetheless. "Prank or not, these things aren't autonomous." He asked, before Turkey could dish out a response to Heracles. "And I doubt Japan's the type to waste his stuff like that."

Turkey gave him a condescending look. "Probably not." He lifted the book off the surface. "A'ight, _you_." He jabbed a finger in Konstantin's direction. "You can go. Just finish your damned work." He then grabbed the collar of Heracles's shirt, tugging on it and making to head back around the room. "Jerkules, you're comin' with me."

Heracles almost stumbled out of his seat, barely regaining his balance as he was dragged along. He promptly wriggled out of the Turk's grasp. "Why should I?"

"'cause for some reason, Japan likes ya, and I need back-up to prove I didn't just trash one of his stupid fly-drone things for the Hell of it. Now move it!"

Konstantin was still seated for a short time after a disgruntled Heracles had followed Turkey out of the classroom door. He shook his head slowly to himself, wondering what in the world had just happened. He knew little about the Technology class; apart from anything he used himself, all he knew was only hear-say from the students that worked under Japan. To the best of his knowledge, Japan kept everything regulated in that class (before certain weaponry could be crafted for a specific user, for example, it had to first be approved by the Principal), and he'd never heard of a product used for a prank.

As he stood up to leave, however, something crossed his mind... The phone sunk down in his back pocket. _The phone. _The phone, whoever the Hell had given it to him, was a product of the Technology class... He thought suddenly back to the fly... What was the exact purpose of that...? Did it have something to do with the phone?

Turkey and Heracles's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor. He was entirely alone. He reached into his back pocket, removing the phone and opening it. The phone's memory had instantly stored the last number he'd called – the _only_ number he'd called. _7727347920. _Konstantin clicked to dial it again.

He placed it to his ear, and let it ring.

"_Konstantin, I'm impressed. One minute, thirteen-point-two-five-two seconds._" The same voice that had spoken the last time answered. "_I can see why they'd want to keep someone like you, despite the fact you're in detention... Again._"

"You're spying on me." He said, in the most blunt tone possible.

"_What makes you think that?_"

"'One minute, thirteen-point-two-five-two seconds', until I figured out that there's an unidentified drone in the same room as only three people, one of whom is under the influence of blackmail at the moment, via a phone that was probably stolen from the Technology class as well-"

"_-Aha, yes, yes, Konstantin._" The voice interrupted. "_You're quite right. Either way, I'm glad you called at such a time! Did you know our little 'agreement' is due to expire?_"

Konstantin furrowed his brow. "I can't say I do." He paused, then added with caution, "I can't say I know why you'd suddenly want to cut it off, either." If, indeed, the voice was talking about the situation with Adéla, then he was incredibly confused as to why such a thing was going to 'expire'... After all, it had been so much effort for Konstantin to have accepted in the first place... The voice, and Adéla... Were they toying with him, somehow?

"_Want to? Oh, of course, I don't _want _to..._" The voice snickered. "_I merely have to. Ah, that reminds me – weren't you going back to your dormitory? Perhaps you should hurry..._"

He adhered himself firmly to the spot he was stood on. "Why?"

"_'Why'? I'd advise you not to ask questions. I suggest you go. You're welcome to hang up._"

"Wait-" He snapped.

"_No, Konstantin. Now is not the time. Hang up, leave the phone switched on, and return to your dormitory. Goodbye._"

Frustrated, he pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the button to end the call. If he hadn't have hung up, as he was asked, he knew the voice would have cut the line for him...

...His dorm, then. He was going to go there anyway, but... Why had the voice been so keen to get him there? He returned the phone to his back pocket, collected his things together from the desk, and left the room, heading back across the campus to the dorm building.

He didn't need to find Arthur, now that he thought about it, until after five, which was half an hour away. He hadn't expected to have been let out of detention so early, of course, but no doubt Turkey hadn't seen the point in keeping him in the classroom alone, and that was why.

When he made it back to his dorm, he found something inside he hadn't expected to have been there...

...Or, rather, _someone. _Someone he had wanted to see, but for the past day or so, hadn't. Someone that had stuck in his thoughts somehow the whole time, even as he'd faced the recent events without him.

It was Aurel.

He was dressed plainly, in jeans and a grey-coloured polo shirt. Oddly enough, however, his hat wasn't on top of his head... In fact, it wasn't anywhere in sight. Aurel was sat on his bed, which was neatly-made... The entire side of his room was neatened up, in fact. His reddish gaze shot straight towards Konstantin as he opened the door; he seemed to be slightly startled by his entry.

"Y-You! You're early..." The Romanian stammered.

Konstantin shrugged off this strange reaction, closing the door behind himself as he entered. "Turkey let me go early." He headed over to his own bed. "You're in isolation at the moment, right? I'm guessing that's why I haven't seen you for a couple of days?"

Aurel's posture was rigid. "Ah... You're right, I have been in isolation..."

"I'm not going to ask." Konstantin said, dumping his bag down on his bed. Truth be told, his mind wasn't exactly stuck on that matter, at that very moment in time... "Arthur said he'd fill me in today."

"That's... Good of him, I suppose."

_'It's Aurel... Aurel's here, now...' _He told himself, putting the talk with the voice out of his mind, and recalling, swiftly, the last conversation he'd had with Svetlana instead. Konstantin sat on the edge of his own bed, looking across the room at Aurel... Something was troubling him, he could tell. He assumed it to have been the isolation. He wondered... Maybe he could make him feel better...?

Before Konstantin could even begin to look for the words he wanted, Aurel spoke again. He was almost monotonal in voice, his expression rather sullen. "Arthur will probably tell you about the devices. It might help him, if you show him yours."

His lips parted, his eyes widened, and his heart sank – all at the same time, suddenly. "Y-You know about-"

Aurel rolled his eyes. "Oh Kosta, _please_. I'm not stupid. But it's alright." He waved his hand, dismissively. "I know it's supposed to be a secret... But so was what Arthur's doing. Who told you about that?"

Konstantin lowered his head, frowning. "Elise. It's a long story."

"Hmn, not the answer I was expecting, but, oh well, I suppose it's not a story I should know about." The more and more Aurel went on, the colder his tone of voice became. "Speaking of the device, Kosta, you understand what it entails, don't you?"

"Of course I know." He replied, not liking the way Aurel had said that at all.

The Romanian snorted, his nose creasing. "Good, then. I bid you good luck as an ANGEL."

Konstantin didn't know if he'd done or said something wrong to upset Aurel... He thought again, perhaps he was merely bothered by the isolation period. He took a moment to shut his eyes, and recall Svetlana's words... _'The moon and stars should always be in the right position'_. It sounded so trivial, and yet, really, those had been Aurel's words to begin with.

He drew in a breath, and released it, and then rose to his feet again. Konstantin had felt, for the past couple of weeks, like his life was somehow crumbling away, slipping through his fingers like sand – like it was all beyond his control; he'd been unable to defeat Jovan, he'd been shot at by the rogues, he was being manipulated by some faceless voice for the sake of Adéla, and – as Aurel had said – he was soon to cross over and become an ANGEL.

But this was one moment in time he still had control over.

After stepping across the room, he slipped down to a kneeling position in front of Aurel, whom looked confused at the action.

"Kosta..." He breathed out. "What are you...?"

Konstantin reached up to Aurel's lap, taking both of his hands in his own. The Romanian seemed just as startled by this as when he'd entered the room just before.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked, trying to keep his voice soft and hushed. "Is that why you're acting this way?"

Aurel continued to frown. He looked away. "Peh. How patronising, as usual. Poor little Aurel... Poor little fucking _good-for-nothing _Aurel." He started to hiss out his words, each in an articulately scathing manner. "He's still in the second year, he's not even seventeen yet; of _course _Konstantin Asenov would talk down to him like that, because Konstantin is _fucking perfect_. Konstantin can lose to that fucking asshole, Jovan, over and over, and yet..." Aurel's face suddenly cracked, and he wheezed out a half-laugh. "And yet everyone still thinks he's a wonderful person! He's so strong, so fast, so handsome! He even took on the rogues and lived!"

"Aurel...?" Konstantin was incredibly concerned... What had gotten into him? And why was he saying such things about Konstantin, himself?

He cast his gaze towards the ceiling. "What does it matter that I've cast my life aside for the sake of the rest of you? If you had been in the same position, they wouldn't have fucking told you it was all over... _No, _Konstantin, they wouldn't, because you're too damned _precious _to them. You're their fucking _ideal _soldier."

He didn't understand. He couldn't understand... None of what Aurel was saying was making any sense to him. Casting his life aside? Konstantin being in the same position? Aurel needed to finish his sentences, if he was going to get the point across.

"Don't... Don't say that. Please." Konstantin muttered, shaking his head briskly.

"And why not, when it's the truth?"

He swallowed, replaying what Aurel had just reeled off to him in his mind... "It's not true, Aurel." He tightened his hold on the other's hands, adding with more zeal, "It's not! I'm not here to patronise you, I..."

When he had first met Aurel, indeed, he had been a child... But Konstantin had been, himself. He had left his somewhat meaningless relationship with Svetlana, as she had taken greater interest in Jovan, who – at the time – Konstantin loathed for it. But Aurel... Aurel became his best friend. Aurel was always there for him. Aurel was the one who sat on the top of the fence when he played tennis against Jovan, he was the one who scolded him for managing to hurt his wrist during Archery, he was the one that, the very night before, had tucked him into bed when he'd reached exhaustion point.

He hadn't wanted to patronise him at all... He'd just wanted to look after Aurel, the way Aurel looked after him.

He tugged on the other's hands, bringing them closer to him, and resting his chin atop his knuckles... He took in a breath, watching Aurel's eyes closely...

..._No, _he couldn't do it.

"I think you're incredible." Those uttered words were genuine... But, they hadn't been the exact words he'd wanted... Something about how Aurel was acting right now prevented him from speaking precisely what was on his mind.

Aurel shut his eyes, sighing, "Kosta..."

"I mean it."

When the Romanian's eyes opened once more, he stared at Konstantin for a few moments. He drew in deep breaths – in, and out – until he seemed to have calmed down. "I'm... _O doamne_..." Taking his hands out of Konstantin's grasp, he brought them to his face, and groaned into them. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

Frowning, Konstantin rose up from his kneeling position, and he took a seat on the bed next to Aurel. "What's set you off? Is it isolation?"

Aurel hung his head sadly, and shook it. "Only partly, I suppose."

"Only partly?" Konstantin repeated, sounding sullen. He was starting to feel disappointed in himself now, for having derailed the conversation and not said what he'd needed to say.

He watched as Aurel bit down on his bottom lip... Indeed, something was definitely wrong with him, today... But what? Konstantin needed to know... He waited for Aurel to answer.

"Kosta... Why do you think I'm wearing my clothes, and not uniform?"

Konstantin lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I'm probably gonna be going for the obvious answer here, but is it because you're in isolation?" He frowned, suddenly. "Well, _supposed _to be in isolation, anyway... Aren't they meant to keep you until six or seven in the evening or something...?"

"Isolation is isolated class... For most of this morning, I was in my uniform, doing class work alone in Germania's office..." Steadily, he peered towards Konstantin. "Then China came in, followed by Rome... They dragged me outta there, and took me to Rome's office... And gave me a piece of paper to sign." At that moment, he reached into the pocket of his jeans, before presenting said apparent piece of paper, folded-up, to Konstantin.

Konstantin could already tell, as he pulled the paper open, that this wasn't going to be good.

"It's a Declaration of Pangaean Citizenship." Aurel said, his voice growing quiet. "They've decided to expel me from the Academy."

Nearly dropping the paper, Konstantin shot his head to the side, staring straight at Aurel. "What!?"

"You heard." Aurel muttered, motioning towards the paper. "Read it."

Out of impulse, having been told to read it, Konstantin cast his eyes back downwards, but... _No_. No, he didn't want to read it. "Aurel, you can't..." He didn't know what to think... He didn't know what to do, or say... Of all the things that could be happening right now... Aurel couldn't be... _Leaving_...

"Can't? I don't have a choice." Aurel continued, bleakly. "I broke the rules. I 'betrayed' the Academy project, but... You know what, Kosta? Part of me is relieved to be leaving."

Konstantin felt his mouth turn dry. "You don't mean that...! Everyone's here, why would you-"

"Kosta." Aurel interjected, giving him quite a stern look for a moment, before softening it considerably with a sigh, "Listen to me... This Academy has secrets... Secrets you may know, being so close to crossing over. But were these things known to us before we arrived at the Academy, would we have come?" He shook his head. "I don't want to go. My friends are here... And for now, _you're _here, but I've no choice."

Thrusting the paper back to Aurel's lap, Konstantin jumped to his feet. "Of _course _you have a fucking choice! Why didn't you argue!? If you're one of 'us' then you're valuable to..."

"_Kosta._" Aurel said firmly, his eyes following him as he stood. "The decision is final. I already admitted everything was my doing, so that Lukas wouldn't be expelled as well. Call it self-sacrifice for the greater good, if you will. Better me alone, than the both of us."

Konstantin clenched and unclenched his fists. That empty sensation in the depths of his chest he'd felt when thinking of Jovan's absence occurred again, but stronger; it was... How could he describe it? _Devastating._ His heart wrenched with pain, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in tact.

"I'll be fine." Aurel continued. "I'll live in the town. And if..." He rubbed the edge of the paper between his fingers. "If Arthur's revolution doesn't work out, then at least I won't become an ANGEL."

His eyes now cast down towards the floor, Konstantin inhaled a sharp breath. "You... You didn't want to become an ANGEL in the first place...?"

"I..." Aurel paused. "...I was going to follow you, if you became an ANGEL. And I expect you will, but now the case is that I simply am not allowed to. But no, I didn't _want_ to."

That had been a stupid question, now that Konstantin thought about it... Among all of the students, did any of them really _want _to become an ANGEL? Did any of them really desire what it entailed? Aurel was right when he'd said that had such details of crossing over been known to them before they'd come to the Academy... Well, then would anyone have come at all?

The project had been coordinated with that in mind. They needed the students to become ANGELS, they promised them a better life because of it... Konstantin was sure that his life at the Academy, at least, was better than the one he'd been living before...

...He was no longer alone, after all... But, was that going to change, now? Now that Aurel was to leave all of a sudden?

"They want me out by tonight." Aurel said, his voice hushed.

Konstantin walked over to the window, leaning against the wall besides it with his weight on his arm. "I take it they've cleared your stuff out already."

"One of the housekeepers came for it an hour ago... Like I said, they want me gone."

There was silence between them again; Konstantin didn't say anything to that.

"You're brooding." Aurel said, a little louder than he'd been speaking previously. "I... Honestly am sorry for getting angry at you like that... Please, don't be upset."

"I'm not upset because of that. I'm upset because you're leaving."

"Ah... Well, just... Please don't be upset at all... I'm not worth it, Kosta."

Konstantin had to fight very hard not to turn around and snap at him. "Of course you're worth it."

_'You're worth more to me than you'll ever know.'_

Though heard the bed move as Aurel rose from his seat, Konstantin kept his gaze outside of the window. There was nothing out there of interest, really; just a few students walking over the quad, going about their own business – but he couldn't bring himself to turn around. He was beginning to squint his eyes, trying not to let his face crack with emotion. It was incredibly difficult.

Aurel sighed lightly behind him, and then, in a move that started Konstantin, the Romanian suddenly wrapped his arms around him, his chest pressed to his back. "Thank you, Kosta." He tightened his arms. "Thank you for being there for me, for comforting me..." He snickered a bit. "For putting up with me, even when I've been a pain in the ass. Thank you for everything... I will miss you."

_'Stop it... Stop talking like that... This can't be goodbye...'_

It was happening too fast... Konstantin's head was starting to spin, he had to shut his eyes so the world outside the window wouldn't all turn into a blur in front of him... God, how he wished this wasn't happening... Not now, not ever...

"I suppose I've never really liked goodbyes..." Aurel went on to say. He sighed softly. "It's harder than I thought it would be." He took his arms away, and stepped backwards. He paused, picking up on Konstantin's silence. "Say something, please... Even if it's just goodbye."

The words he wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue... He just couldn't find it in him to let them out...

"And... Who knows? If the revolution goes ahead then... Then maybe it won't be goodbye, after all."

"Aurel..."

"...Yes?"

..._No_, he couldn't do it.

Konstantin lowered his head, the inside of his lower lip clenched between his teeth. He released it, before muttering a simple "Goodbye."

It hadn't been what he'd wanted to say... Not at all, because it had sounded like he had accepted Aurel's departure, but it was all that he _could _say, all that he would let himself say...

And perhaps, he thought, it was better that way, after all.

"Goodbye, Kosta."

* * *

The book nearly slipped from Arthur's grasp.

His head snapped up towards Aurel, his mouth going dry. Had he just heard that right?

"You're _what_!?" He asked, wanting the Romanian to repeat himself.

"I have to leave. The decision has been made for me to be expelled."

Aghast, Arthur stared at Aurel, whose expression was relatively at ease in comparison to the weight of what he was saying.

"B-But you can't... What about..." Arthur stopped himself, before he began to speak of their plan. There were others in the common room with them.

"There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry."

Marking his book, Arthur rose from his seat. "But..."

Aurel raised his hand to stop him mid-sentence. "No 'buts'. There's absolutely nothing that can be done."

Arthur rubbed at his forehead, finding it difficult to comprehend that Aurel had been expelled – especially because it had partially been Arthur's fault... He cursed mentally... If only he hadn't left him and Lukas the night before... Perhaps the outcome of their task would have been different, somehow...

"Don't make that face." Aurel said. He then glanced about the room, which had gone quiet; Arthur then looked around as well, and saw that quite a few of the other students had started to watch their conversation (perhaps their attention had been drawn by his reaction).

"I'm not..." Arthur breathed out, his voice going quiet as he turned back towards the other. "I just... _Oh, Hell_... Aurel, I'm sorry..."

"Sorry? What ever for?" Aurel shot him a knowing grin, his hands on his hips. "Don't worry about me."

Somehow, Aurel's words and attitude weren't helping to placate Arthur.

"I'll be going to the front building now. Would you like to see me off?"

Arthur agreed, without more than a muttered 'alright' in response. Aurel was being so nonchalant about his situation, and as he walked with him, he could only search his brain for the right words to say... If he didn't want an apology, what else could Arthur give him?

But... Perhaps he was being nonchalant for a reason. Perhaps Aurel was telling himself not to get worked up, not to get emotional... Arthur knew he'd probably act the same, were he in that situation.

"I've never really liked goodbyes, you know." Aurel said, patting Arthur on the shoulder as they left the dorm building and crossed the quad. "They're too sentimental."

"I suppose..." Was all Arthur could think to mumble out.

"Either way, like I said, you shouldn't worry about me. So long as you keep doing what you're doing, then there's no need for a goodbye at all, is there?"

Arthur didn't know whether Aurel was even _trying _to make him feel any better at this point, or not. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing a little. "Aurel..."

The Romanian chuckled. "Or is that unnecessary pressure?"

"You could put it that way."

Aurel stepped inside the foyer, Arthur following after him, and he made a beeline towards where a suitcase was propped up at the side of the front desk. He spoke for a brief moment with Mrs. Karpusi (although Arthur couldn't hear what they were saying), before she turned away from her desk. When Arthur reached the desk as well, she was handing something over to Aurel. He thanked her, and took the suitcase in the other hand, moving towards the front doors. Arthur continued to wander after him.

"Apartment key." He flashed the item to Arthur. "I don't suppose it'll be anything luxurious, but at least it's a roof over my head."

"Aurel..." Arthur was still finding it difficult to comprehend... The last person he'd seen leave the Academy was Cameron, but though that was for completely different reasons, they were still both counting on him to end the project... To _save _them, in a way.

Aurel had called in 'unnecessary pressure'. Arthur didn't think it was 'unnecessary', but he couldn't deny it was a great amount of pressure.

"You've been a good friend to me. I appreciate that. I only wish my time here wasn't cut so short." Aurel said. His expression had neutralised, but there was still the outline of a smile on his countenance. "Take care of yourself, and good luck."

Down the front steps, past where Berwald was, as usual, stood on guard, the same black car that had ferried Arthur to the Academy upon his arrival to Pangaea was waiting. Aurel tugged the door open; Arthur held it open for him with the side of his foot to allow him to pull his suitcase over the threshold with ease.

"You too... And, thank you." Arthur said. "I'll do my absolute best for you."

"Not for me, Arthur." Aurel turned back towards him, pocketing the key in his hand and offering him another warm smile. "For everyone."

Slowly, Arthur nodded. "R-Right... For everyone."

He stayed put in the doorway, as Aurel headed down the steps with his suitcase. Waiting at the car were a couple of the guards in suits – notably, they were the same men that had been with Arthur when he'd first arrived, and also the ones that had taken the students back to the Academy during the storm a few weeks before... They were not the same men that had gone with Cameron through the south gate – those had been actual _soldiers_... Or at least, Arthur was quite certain that was what they had been. He could only assume these suited guards were part of the voluntary civilian population that Aurel was now going to be joining.

All Aurel had to do was show one of them a piece of paper he'd retrieved from his pocket, and they'd made to move his suitcase into the back of the car. Aurel then turned back towards the foyer, waving the hand that was holding the paper to Arthur, flashing his teeth in a grin that Arthur couldn't help but feel was a little strained. "_La revedere! _Goodbye, Arthur!"

And soon he was in the car, and the door had closed, and the engine had started, and before Arthur knew it, Aurel – one of his closest allies in his fight against the project, of all people – was halfway down the front drive to the north gate.

For a moment, Arthur felt almost light-headed. He rubbed at his forehead with a hefty sigh, leaning on the frame of the door. He stayed there for a moment, his eyes still on the car disappearing into the distance... And then, he found his attention drawn away by a figure approaching him from the foyer. At first he thought it was a teacher coming to usher him back inside, but instead, they stood still a little way away from him, watching out of the front as well.

"Arthur..." The voice belonged to Konstantin, and when Arthur twisted his head around to look at who had approached, indeed, it was him. He was talking quietly, and as he spoke, he never moved his eyes to look at Arthur; his focus was completely – presumably – on the car. "I don't know much about what you're trying to do, but all the same... I've decided, I want to help you."

Slowly, Arthur cast his gaze back outwards as well. "Then we'd better get started."

* * *

A/N: Nothing to add to this chapter. Thanks for reading!

_-Lusky._


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